\i\'l 






■ i » «. • • 






WESTERN WILDS, 



THE MEN WHO REDEEM THEM 



AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE, 



EMBRACINO 



AN ACCOUNT OF SEVEN YEARS TRAN^EL AND ADVENTURE IN THE FAR WEST; 
WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA; PERILS OF THE PLAINS;* LIFE IN THE CANON AND 
DEATH ON THE DESERT: THRILLING SCENES AND ROMANTIC INCI- 
DENTS IN THE LIVES OF WESTERN PIONEERS;/ ADVENTURES 
AMONG THE RED ANd(\VHITE SAVAGE^ OF THE, WEST; 
A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE . MOUNTAIN MEADOW 
MASSACRE; THE CUSTER DEFEAT; LIFE AND 
DEATH OF BRIGHAM YOUNG, ETC. 



INCr.UDING, ALSO, 

AN ELABORATE HISTORY AND DESCRII'TIO.N" Ol' TilK MINING DISTRICTS ; AN EXPERT 

DISCUSSION OK THE SUBJECT OF .MODEKS MINING ; A FL'LL RESUME 

OF MINING MATTERS AT THE Ol'ENlNG OF 1882. 

By J. H. BEADLE, 

Author of Life in Utah ; Westei-n Correspondent Cincinnati Commercial, etc. 



ILLUSTRATED. 



J. C. CHILTON PUBLISHING CO. 

DETROIT, MICH. 



M'^^'- 



7 






Copyright, 1877, by John T. Jones. 



I 



' Y 




^^\ 



In writing this work the author had two objects in view: to interest the 
reader; and to tell the exact truth about the country west of the Mississippi. 
As to the first, there is neither argument nor assertion ; the reader can only 
judge for himself after perusal. But, as to the second, the author firmly 
believes he has accomplished it. The Far West is an immense region, and 
no one man ever visited all sections of it. The most to be expected is that 
each • traveler shall seize upon the salient features of certain portions, and 
describe them in popular style. I have labored earnestly to give facts in 
regard to the lands still open to settlement; and I have been especially care- 
ful to correct certain errors as to soil and climate which I find very common 
in the East. We often hear it confidently asserted, and by those who ought 
to know, that "the American Desert is a myth— there is no desert in the 
West." I am sorry this statement is not true; but if there are not at least 
300,000 square miles of utterly baxTen land, then "mine eyes are made the 
fools o' the other senses," for I have lived and traveled many a week where not 
one acre in a hundred is fertile. I have aimed to avoid personalities, but I 
can not altogether refrain from harsh expressions as to the misstatements 
made in many land circulars; or the colored fixlsehoods of many maps, made 
"to invite immigration." 

Some critics will object that the work contains rather more about Utah 
and the Mormons than the subject warrants; and it is, perhaps, but natural 
that one should write at length on that which most interests him. But I 
apprehend this Utah question is one on which Americans generally need 
information; it is liable to call for prompt action by government at any time, 
and the people should be prepared to sustain their Representatives in all 
constitutional means to relieve the Nation of this disgrace. The author has 
been accused of undue prejudice against Brigham Young and other Mormon 
leaders; more space is therefore given to the legal evidence of their crimes 
than is usual in a popular work. Eight years ago I hunted up, from a score of 
sources, the facts of the Mountain Meadow Massacre; and, when published, 
there Avas a loud outcry that I had overdrawn the picture— " made it a 
newspaper sensation." I here present the testimony of witnesses in court. 



iv PREFACE. 

sworn and crossH?xaniined, to show tluit iny narrative of eight years ago was 
by far too mild; that in every charge then made against the Mormon Church 
I w:u5 within the truth. Nor do I admit tliat all the black details are yet 
known. Evidence is yet to be developed which will convince the most 
skeptical that Brigham Young was the accomplice and shield of murderers 
This is a hard Siiying, but rest assured it will be proved. 

If I have assumed too much in making myself an advocate for the political 
and civil rights of the Gentile minority in Utah, that minority can easily 
signify the same to their friends in the East who care to inquire. The 
Americans in Utah went there from the States, and did not change their 
natures when they changed their residence; they love liberty, and desire a 
share in the local government for the same reasons they did in the East. 
They have fought a good fight; they have accomplished much, and will do 
more. If my criticisms upon Gen. Thomas L. Kane and other apologists for 
Brighara appear severe, the record is presented to show their errors. Th«, 
record condemns them — not I. Of course there has been a great deal of 
twaddle and romance on the part of the opponents of IMormonism — there 
always is in matters of popular discussion; but the nearer we keep tc 
admitted fiicts, the more clearly we see that, on the main question, they ar< 
radically right, and Brigham's apologists radically wrong. Polygamy anc 
incest are admitted and defended in Utah; and it is a fair assumption that 
men who violate law in two such important i)articulars, will violate it in 
others, if their interest seems to require it. But, as mere inference is not 
enough in such matters, I have, as aforesaid, given more evidence than the 
aim and style of the work would have made desirable. 

Five million Americans exj)ect to go "West. There should be a new work 
on that section, written by some careful observer, at least once a year; for 
the changes there are many and rapid. Doubtless so plain a presentation of 
the discouraging features, as is here given, Avill have a depressing effect upon 
the ardent; but it is best to know the truth. There is not as much rooiu 
for us to grow in that direction as is popularly supposed, and Americans can 
Hot find it out too soon. So much for the main object of this work — truth. 
As to the interest in the narrative — kind reader, excuse me; I touch your 
hand, and without further apology introduce you to My Book. 

J. H. B. 

CoLtTMBUS, Ouio, October 1, 1877. 










CHAPTER I. 

THE HAWKEYES. 

I make a start.— Fair Iowa.— Yankee, Hoosier, Buckeye, and Scandinavian.— The 
Aryan wave.— Hoosier grammar.— Sorrows of the non-resident land-owner.— " The 
walled lakes."— Greatness of the Border States.— " Hoss high, bull strong, and pig 
tight."— The 'hoppers.— "Omahawgs" and "Omaliens."— "Milkville" and " Bilkville."— 
Rural Nebraska.— Agricultural wealth.— Pawnees, Otoes, Omahaws.— The Bedouin in- 
stinct.-" Go West." . . . • • • 1^-2^ 



CHAPTER II. 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 



Unsung heroes.— Scenes in Southern Kansas.—" Shuck up."—" Fevernager."— My 
host's story.— He leaves Tennessee for New Orleans.— "Chawin' rags for a paper- 
mill."— Up into the Cherokee country.— Another run to New Orleans.— Walk home 
through the "Injun" country.— Murder of Mcintosh and others.— War between the 
Rossites and Ridgeites.— Exposure and fever.— Delirium.— Rescued by the "little 
Cherokee girl."— Home again.— Joe and Myra.— More trouble with the Cherokees.— 
Journey to Iowa.— In danger from the " Danites."— Mrs. Joe's " tantrums."— Captured 
by the" Hawkeyes.— Interview with Judge Lynch.— Horrible murder of Miller and 
Liecy.— Hanging of the Hodges.— Terrible times on the Half-breed Tract.— The Califor- 
nia excitement.— Start from Independence.— Troubles on the way.— Danger and death 
on the great desert.— Among the gold hunters.— More murders.— Return to Tennessee.— 
The great war.— Death of the boys.— Removal to Indian Territory.— " Won't there be 
peacewhilellive?"— Rest at last 25-44 

CHAPTER III. 

THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 

Flush times in Omaha.— Some characters.— Will Wylie's escape.— " Seen the 
Elephant."— "A neck-tie sociable."— " Coppered on the jack."— Apostate Mormons' 
caravan.— Up the slope to Cheyenne.—" Dirty Jule's."— The Plains.—" Magic City."— 
Passage of the Black Hills.— Virginia Dale.— Laramie Plains.— Benton.— Alkali 
Desert.— Evanescent "cities."— Bear River City.— Battle with the roughs.— More 
Mormons.— "Catfish with legs."— Horrors of Bitter Creek.— Green River.— Bridger 
Plains.— The author a mule-whacker.- Grandeur of Echo Canon.— Weber Valley.— 
Up to Parley's Park.— Down Parley's Canon.— First view of the Salt Lake.—" City of ^ 
the Saints."- 1 become a Gentile sinner 45-55 

(V) 



vi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IV. 
geffkoy's trials. 

On Griffith ^lountain, Colorado. — "Are we the authore of onr own dcfltiny?" — 
Geffrey's narrative answers. — Beautiful Geneva. — Frenchy fancies vs. German phlegm. — 
A young enthusiast. — Hunting the Brotherhood of Man. — At New Harmony, Indiana. — 
Failure of Communism. — At Nauvoo. — At Communia. — On the plains. — Enlist with the 
Texan patriots of '43. — Bright pictures. — Stern realities. — " The River of Souls." — The 
ticiras templadas. — In the Wild Canon. — Posted on the Taos Trail. — Another frightful 
march. — Down to the Cimarron. — Another trial of the desert. — Night attack on the 
Mexican camp. — Victory, followed in turn by flight. — Loss of the horses. — Geffroy and 
friend go after them. — Surrounded by Mexicans. — A dash for life. — Headlong leap into 
the chasm. — Oblivion, or death? 56-71 

CHAPTER V. 

DOLORES. 

Return to consciousness. — Laid up in the cabin. — Love and convalescence. — The 
captured Americans.- -Dolores' plan. — The parting. — Gomez and the Pueblos. — Halt at 
Jemcz. — Meeting the Navajoes. — A land of wonders. — Among the ^loquis, — A simple, 
civil, and unwarlike race. — A race without envy or covetousness. — Joyful meeting with 
Dolores. — Los Diabolos Gringos. — Flight for the north. — Lost on the desert. — The horrors 
of thirst. — Another day of anguish. — Life in the rock. — "With our lips pressed to the 
rock we drew new life." — Hope revived. — Pursuit by the Mexicans. — W^ounding and 
death of Dolores. — Agony of Geffroy. — Enlists as a soldier. — The war in Mexico. — 
Revisits Switzerland. — 1848: the year of Revolutions. — In the army of Baden. — 
Capture and long imprisonment. — Liberty, when hope was dead. — Return to the 
Far West. — " The Brotherhood of Man comes not by spasmodic struggles, but by steady 
toil." 72-89 

CHAPTER VI. 

POLYGAMIA. 

I meet Brigham & Co. — Topography of his kingdom. — I reside there a year. — And 
become a hated Gentile. — Mormon notabilities: Brigham, Orson Pratt, Hooper, Geo. A. 
Smith. — "The One-eyed Pirate of the Wasatch." — Polygamy, Bigamy, Brighamy, Mo- 
nogamy, and other gamies. — Utah politics. — Noted Gentiles. — Liberal Mormons. — Credu- 
lous skeptics. — " No trade with non-Mormons." — Consequent troubles. — Persecution of 
dissenters. — Journey to Sevier. — Beauties of Pine Gulch. — Return to " Zion." — " There's a 
better day coming." — Religious lying. — Perjury " for Christ's sake." . . 90-10£ 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 

"Westward again. — Corinne. — Promontory. — Dead Fall, Murder Gulch, Last Chance, 
and Painted Post. — "Do me a favor: shoot me through the head!" — Fine morality of 
the gamblers. — The Great Nevada Desert. — " Sinks," — Up the Truckee. — State Line.^ 
Down tha Sierras. — Wonders of Cape Horn. -Sacramento. — '• San .Jooykwinn." — Or San 
AVahkecn? — In Yolo County. — Davisville. — Chinese and silk culture. — Tides. — Fruits 



CONTENTS. vii 

and wine. — Does it supersede whisky? — The California seasons. — "Frisco." — Chinese 
Theater. — The tragedy of Kip Sah. — Buddhist ceremonies. — A gloomy sort of religion.-. 
"Top-side Josh." — The devil-drive. — "Chinaman like Melica man," . . 103-116 

CHAPTER VIII. 

TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. 

Utah and trouble. — "Mormon hospitality." — The author mobbed and badly hurt, 
but recovers rapidly. — Healing air of the mountains. — Rich mineral discoveries in V 
Utah. — The Gentiles take heart. — The Emma Mine.— I go to Washington as a lobbyist. — 
And don't like it.— Further travels in Utah.— Polygamy again.— Eev. J. P. Newman 
shows that there are but thirteen polygamists mentioned in the Bible. — And hundreds 
of good monogamists. — Orson Pratt comes back at him. — High times in the Taber- 
nacle. — Some of the nasty features of polygamy. — Such as incest and indecency. — A vil- 
lage composed of Taylors.— And one made up of Winns. — General view of the Terri- 
tory.— And of the Far West 117-128 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE MISSOURI VALLEY. 

Kansas City: a modern Rome. — We look at it, but do not invest. — The "Land of 
Zion." — Lawrence. — " The Wakarusa AVar." — The Massacre of 1863. — The Athens of the 
West. — Our journey southward: The Leavenworth, Lawrence, and Galveston Road. — 

Ottawa. — Western Yankees. — " Brother K 's blooded mare.'"—" Buffalo stamps." — A 

progressive country. — Fertility of Allen and Neosho counties. — An incorrigible old 
man. — Cherryvale. — The beautiful mounds. — The social Kansian. — " Sna-a-a-kes!" — 
Northward to Leavenworth. — Quindaro Chindmvan. — "A second Babylon." — Wyandotte. — 
Atchison. — Troy. — St. Joe. — Up the Missouri Valley. — Council Bluffs. — Omaha. — 
On northward. — Sioux City. — Onawa. — Woodbury. — Staging to Yankton. — Dakotians: 
French, Scandinavians, and Bohemians. — "Woman's Rights:" to do as much work as 
she can. — The gentle savage. — lapi Oahyef — "Portable talk." — Northern Dakota. — 
Western Dakota. — We leave suddenly for California 129-139 

CHAPTER X. 

THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 

All aboard for Yosemite! — From chilly "Frisco" to melting Stockton. — By rail to 
Milton. — Hot drive among the foot-hills. — Copperopolis. — The broiling stage; air dead 
calm; thermometer 100°. — In the cool grove at last. — The vegetable wonders of the 
Avorld. — A tree thirty -two feet thick. — " Fatlier and Mother." — " Husband and Wife," 
250 feet high. — "Uncle Tom's Cabin." — How came they here? — California names. — 
Over Table Mountain. — " Truthful James." — Old mining towns. — Sonora. — Chinese 
Camp. — Garrote. — The Tuolumne Grove. — Tamarack Flat. — Reminiscences of the 
"strong-minded." — First view of Yosemite. — Prospect Peak. — The terrible descent. — 
A fall of 2,667 feet. — El Capitan: Tu-loch-ah-nu-la.—A reverie on Cosmos. — Mirror 
Lake. — Reflected glories.— The climb to Nevada Falls. — Down by Vernal Falls. — The 
sublime and beautiful. — J. M. Hutchings, the pioneer. — " Spirit of the Evil Wind." — 
"Great Chief of the Valley." — Down hill to San Francisco. — Climate of the Coast. — 
A day at the Cliff House. — Poluphloisboio Thalasses. — Regretful good-bye to the Pacific 
Coast 140-103 



viii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XL 

UTAH AUGENTIFERA. 

Gentiles after silver: Mormons after the Gentiles. — " Revelations" and prospecting. — ■ 
Up Little Cottonwood. — The silver lodes — Snow-slides. — 12,000 feet above the sea. — Bald 
Peak, and a view of 20,000 square miles. — Big Cottonwood Canon. — The great fire. — 
Ameriean Fork Canon: the Yosemite of Utah. — Mormon farmers rs. Gentile mountain- 
eers. — " The Republic of Tooele." — East Caiion and horn silver. — Chloride Cave. — Dry 
Canon. — Wild times in the West Mountains. — A Goshoot feast. — I start to Dugway. — 
And gel lost on the desert. — A lonesome night. — Danger and weariness. — Ninety miles 
travel in twentj'-seven hours. — Independence Day on Great Salt Lake. — "No gulls 
in Utah before the Mormons came." — Sailing on the Lake. — Mines in southern 
Utah. — Beaver City. — Mineral wealth of the Territory. — Shall we annex L'tah to Ne- 
vada? ■>- 164-181 

CHAPTER XII. 

A CHAPTER OF BETWEENS. 

Joe Allkire talks. — Valley tan wliisky calls up reminiscences. — "A bad streak o' 
luck." — " Sod-corn barefooted." — Millerites. — '' Misses Chew splits the choir." — The grand 
dog-fight. — Which broke up a town. — "That yaller and spotted dog." — Abraham and 
the preacher clinch. — " No Morgan-killers need apply." — " The head abolishinists." — Si 
Duvall's luck. — Union Flats becomes very flat. — Other reminiscences. — Men who had 
tried many fields. — Story of the mountaineer. — Will and Bob McAfee. — Camp in 
Arkansas Canon. — The storm, and falling timber. — Dreadful alternative of the un- 
wounded brother. — He "relieves" the other's torture. — And dies of grief and re- 
morse. .............. 182-193 

CHAPTER XIII. 

OKLAHOMA. 

A new route to the Pacific. — I enter the Indian Territory. — Yinita. — " White Chero- 
kees." — Cabin Creek. — Mixed bloods. — "It comes back on 'em." — Christian Indians. — 
Muscogee.— Also Muskokce. — The Creeks at home. — Ala-bah-ma: "Here we rest." — 
Natchees and Ilitchitees. — An Aboriginal Democracy. — House of Kings and House of 
Warriors. — Pcthlij hohkohkn. — Tallahassee Mission. — The Muskokee in love. — " Beautiful 
River." — Brad Collins and his gang. — Oklahoma vs. Okmulkee. — Red hot on temper- 
ance. — In the Choctaw country. — Tandy Walker. — Among the Cherokees. — The Big 
Rattling Gourd and other politicians. — Cherokee history. — Civilized Indians of the 
Territory.— What shall we do with them? .... . . 194-211 

CHAPTER XIV. 

JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 

Northward again. — Out on the Kansas Pacific. — A beautiful country. — Ellsworth. — 
Carnival of crime in 1867.— "Wild Bill."— J. II. Runkle.— "Rake Jake."— " Dad 
Smith." — " Shall we have a man for breakfast? " — Heroic, but murderous. — Bisons and 
business. — Arrival at Denver. — Rest and enjoyment. — Southward by the narrow-guage 
railway. — The Divide. — Timbered region. — Colorado City — Take stage-coach. — Pueblo. — 
Night in the stage. — Cocharas. — The scfioritas. — Another day of staging. — Trinidad. — 
The Raton Mountains. — Down upon the New Mexican side. — Wild scenes. — Maxwell's 
Ranche. — Passage of the Rocky Ridge. — A snow storm and a grizzly. — Down to Santa 



CONTENTS. IX 

Fe. — Disappointed with the city. — A queer old town. — High-sounding names.- — Indian 
troubles.— Starting for Fort Wingate. — La Bajada. — Quiea Sabef — Pueblos Indians. — 
Valley of the Kio Grande. — Albuquerque — The gente fina. — The "Greasers." — Will 
they ever amount to any thing ? 212-229 

CHAPTEK XV. 

TOLTECCAN. 

Tlie oldest inhabitant. — Alvar Nunez, etc., traverses New Mexico. — What he saw 
and how he lied about it. — " The Seven Cities of Cibola." — Conquest of New Mexico. — 
Revolt of the Pueblos. — Second Conquest. — High-toned grandees. — Caste. — Sad (?) oc- 
currence.— Should the Territory be made a State? — Citizen Indians. — Queer old cus- 
toms. — Parental authority. — Enterprise. — The universal burro. — We cross the Rio 
Grande. — And enter on the desert. — The awful, the unutterable desert. — Sufferings from 
thirst. — Reach " Hog River." — Dead Man's Caiion. — Another desert. — Oasis of El Rito. — 
Degenerate Spaniards. — Pueblo de Laguna. — An Aztec relic. — El Cubero. — "Women's 
Rights." — 3lala Pais. — Agua Azul. — The extinct volcano. — Drive to Fort Wingate. — 
My companion comes to grief. — Ojo del oso. — Zuni. — Stinking Springs. — The Puerco of 
the West.— Down to Fort Defiance . 230-248 

CHAPTER XVI. 

WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 

The gathering, — Canon Benito. — Handsome Indian girls. — Navajo patience. — A 
mixed tongue. — " Slim-man-with-a-white-eye." — El-soo-see En-now-lo-kyh. — "Big Quill." 
— Murder of Agent Miller. — Sorrow of the Navajoes. — Their kindness and courtesy. — Off 
for a trip. — My Navajo guide. — " Tohh Mohh no mas." — Descent into Caiion de Chelley. — 
Wonders on wonders. — The "cliff cities." — Moonlight in the canon.^Out again on the 
desert. — An awful passage. — The hot alkali plains. — Thirst and suffering. — " Hah-koh, 
Melicano/" — Approach to the Moqui towns. — Amazement of the inhabitants. — The city 
set on a rock. — The strangest people in the world. — Chino and Misiamtewah. — The Mo- 
quis welcome me gladly. 249-267 

CHAPTER XVII. 

AMONG THE AZTECS. 

Topography of Arizona. — A region of hot sands and barren mountains, of fierce 
savages and gentle Indians, of rich mines and wild, forbidding wastes. — The Mesa Ca- 
labasa. — Zunis, Teguas, Moquis, Oraybes, Papagoes, Pimos, and Coco-Maricopas. — 
Rapid decay of the wild tribes. — Noble Navajoes. — Their native shrewdness, industry 
and bravery. — Who are they? — Aztecs? — Barboncito. — Ganado Mucho. — Their handi- 
work. — Their temperance and endurance. — Life at Moqui. — "Ho, Melicano, messay vo.'" — 
Jesus Papa. — Moqui theology. — The "white Indians" of Arizona. — Ruins. — Aztec or 
Toltec? — Comparison with mound-builders' remains. — And South American Ruins. 
— Only a theory. — Which no one is bound to accept 268-286 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

FROM MOQUI TO THE COLORADO. 

Two hundred miles of desert. — Aboriginal mail service. — A new guide. — His nel- 
soass. — Good-bye, Chino! — ^Journey to the new Navajo camp. — "Damn Espafiol, shteal 
mooch." — On the sandstone mesa. — A pleasant party of four. — " Todos muerios, pero mas 



X CONTENTS. 

Apaches!"— knoiher sandstone waste.— First view of the river, 5,000 feet below ns.— 
Getting down the cliff— Water and salts.— At the river at last.— No boats.— Perilous 
pass:igc.— Tlie wliite woman: "My God, stranger, did you risk your life to swim that 
river? "—The Mormon convort's story.— Three days at the ferry.— Parting from my Na- 
vajo friends. ... 287-300 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 

I meet with a surprise.—" Major Doyle " proves to be John D. Lee.— And tells me 
the story of his crime.— He describes the events leading to the Mountain Meadow 
Massacre.— Character of the murdered emigrants.— They are charged with being ene- 
mies of the Mormon people.— The latter incensed.— And determined on revenge.— Did 
they poison the spring?— Or murder friendly Indians?- Outrage on Mrs. Evans.— The 
Mormon Council.— Death of the emigrants determined upon.— The closing tragedy.— 
Lee's excuses and subterfuges.— His further history.— A story horrible enough for the 
most inveterate sensationalist.— I bid the Lees good-bye.— And with no regrets.— Grand 
canon of the Colorado.— Ride to Jacob's Pool.— Thence to Spring-in-Rock.— Lonely 
camping out.— My solitary journey to Kanab.— The Pi-Ede band of savages.—" Toh, 
aguu, water!"- Rest at Kanab.— Jacob Hamlin.— The Powell party.— On the desert 
again.— Pipe Springs.— Our bishop landlord.— Another ride over rock and sand.— 
Gould's Ranche.— Virgin City.— Toquerville.— " Mormon Dixie."— At Isaac Haight's.— 
Kanarra.— Another misfortune.— Ride to Parowan. — Little Salt Lake. — Arrive at Beaver. 
—Staging thence to Salt Lake City 301-316 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE FAIR APOSTATE. 

English homes.— Radical and Conservative; Chartist and Monarchist.— Coming of 
the Mormon missionary. — Simple lives changed. — Voyage to America. — The hand-cart 
emigration.— Frightful sufferings on the plains.— Death on all sides.— Starved, frozen, 
torn bv the wolves.— The Old Radical finds the Brotlierliood of Man.— A young hero. — 
Willie Manson concludes to go West.— Jpurneys thro' Illinois and Iowa.— Meets a queer 
party.— The year 1857.— His sufferings.— At Camp Floyd.— Goes to the city.— Sickness 
and fever. — A familiar face by his pillow 317-331 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE FAIR APOSTATE — CONTINTJED. 

Hot times in "Zlon." — "Tlie Reformation." — Arrival of the hand-cart emigrants. — 
An epidemic madness.— Horrible reign of lust and fanaticism.— United States officials 
driven out.— Mormon war begun.— Skill and daring of Mormon guerrillas.— But the 
Gentile army enters the Valley. — 30,000 Mormons move south.— But return and submit 
peaceably.;— Willie ^VLanson's new friends. — More apostates.— John Banks and Thomas 
James. — Little Marian becomes Miss Marian. — And Manson does not understand the 
change.— In his perplexity he hears doctrine.— And reproof. — But hardens his heart. — 
A new prophet. — Joseph Morris. — ^lorrisite Camp on the Weber.— Attacked and broken 
up by the Brighamitcs.— Murder of the women. — Barbarous killing of iMorris and 
Banks. — Flight of Thomas James. — Exhausted, he lies down to die. — Beatty and Man- 
son off for Montana. — Relieve James. — War with the Bannocks. — Desperate eiTcounters. 
— Four years amid the gold fields. — Manson becomes a mati.' — The friends hear that all 
is peace in Utah.— And together return to " Zion." 332-347 



CONTENTS. XI 

CHAPTER XXII. 

THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION^. 

Briglit days in Cache Valley. — A brother and a sister restored to fellowshij* — 
Thomas James is again happy with Christina. — But he is a bishop's rival, and that 
means danger. — "Blood atonement." — A nameless horror. — The man becomes a creature. 
— Manson perplexed. — "Keep your eye peeled; this is a queer country." — Eed-hot dis- 
cussion of polygamy. — News from James; which is no news. — Anti-Gentile Philippics. — 
Manson meets Marian. — A good outcome at last. — Astonishing conduct of Elder Bri- 
arly. — Mystery added to mystery. — Another Gentile panic. — Murder of Brassfield. — Out- 
rages on Gentile settlers. — Murder of Dr. Robinson. — Flight of the Gentile pre-emptors. — 
Sad fate of Thomas James. — Bishop Warren has his reward. — But heaven is kinder to 
Christina than her own people. — She finds release in death. — Briarly flies from the 
Territory. — Marian and Manson. — Their Iowa home. — But Utah is the home of the 
soul. — And President Grant has given us hope. — Hank Beatty's crime. — Death of his 
wife. — The Mansons return to Utah. — As their troubles ended with a marriage, their 
future state is left to faith 348-370 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

SWINGING 'round THE CIRCLE. 

Off for Soda Springs. — A land of wonders. — A chemical laboratory ten miles 
square. — Soda by the ton: to be had for the taking. — The "Morrisites" again. — A lit- 
tle run eastward. — Denver. — Lawrence. — St. Louis. — A day in Nauvoo: " Destined cap- 
ital of a religious empire." — To the new North-west. — Yankton. — Assassination of 
Secretary McCook. — Steamboating on the Missouri. — Sioux City again. — Enterprising, 
but sensational. — Off for Minnesota. — We enter the Garden State. . . 371-378 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

MINNESOTA. 

Reminiscences of 1859. — The Bois Brules. — Full-blood Chippeways. — Minnesota 
pineries. — The Red Napoleon of the North-west. — "Hard times" in 1859.-1 live on 
corn-bread, hoe corn, and cultivate muscle. — Better times. — Sioux war of 1862. — Blue- 
earth County. — Mankato. — Journey to St. Paul. — Topography. — St. Anthony's Falls. — 
Minnehaha. — Journey to Sauk Rapids. — Staging thence northward. — Belle Prairie. — 
Catholic outposts.— Crow Wing. — Black Pine Forest.— Brainard.— Breaking up the Sab- 
bath. — A Chippeway dance.— Out on the North Pacific R. R.— The barren region.— 
Down to Red River.— Moorehead. — Navigation to British America.— Fargo. — Westward 
by construction train.— Dakota's Salt Lake.— Jimtown.— Eastward again.— The lake 
region.— Scenery on the St. Louis River.— Among the Scandinavians.—" Postoff."— Jay 
Cooke's Banana Zone 379-389 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE TVAY TO OREGON. 

" Let us try the web-feet."— Through Iowa.— Westward from Omaha.— Changes of 
four years. — My fourteenth trip over the Union Pacific. — More trouble in Utah. — Across 
the Sierras again. — Up the Sacramento.— Gen. .John Bidwell's ranche. — Grapes, figs, 
apples, and lemons in November.— Reading. — Walk-in Miller's squaw.— His life in 
jail. — Great forests of the upper Sacramento.— fe Caillotix. — "Sleeping Dictionary.-'-' — 
Yreka.— Over the mountains.— Klamath River.— Cow Creek.— South Umpqua.— Rose- 



xii CONTENTS. 

hurgh. — Oregon and California Eailroad. — Down the "Willamette. — "Beaver Lands." — In 
Portland. — ''Such a fog!"— "John Ciiinaman." — First-class funerals needed. — "Web- 
feet " maidens. — Shall we go home bv sea? — Down the Columbia by steamer. — " High 
sea running." — "Oh, my head, my stomach! O-o-o! " — The boat goes on end. — The 
land-lubbers fall on all sides. — Better weather. — "On an even keel." — Beauties of the 
Pacific. — Cape ^lendocino. — The Golden Gate. — Once more on leira firma. 390-405 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

LjVS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 

"G. T. T."— Bad reputation.— " You may go to hell, and Pll go to Texas."— The 
author finds things improved. — Through the Indian Territory. — Bed River. — Deni- 
son. — "Isohth Fohk." — Healthy region. — "The spiral maginnis" or " De menin- 
jeesus." — At Sherman. — Down Main Trinity. — Travels in Collin County. — The Cotton 
Belt. — In Ellis County. — Navarro and Corsicana. — Insects and other sects. — " A thou- 
sand and forty-four legs." — Through Central Texas to Houston. — Buffalo Bayou. — De- 
lightful ride to Galveston. — Celebration of San Jacinto. — " Brave Texan : bravest man 
in the South, sah!" — Delights of the Galveston beach. — Beauties of the island. — Up 
country. — The land of border romance. — Bob Rock and his brown mestiza. — Hon. 
"Shack" Roberts. — Some political notes. — A tolerant and liberal State. 406-418 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF TEXAS. 

La Salle. — First Settlement on the coast. — Origin of the border question. — Murder 
of La Salle. — The murderers murdered. — The missions. — Indios reduddos. — " Reduced " 
by prayer and fasting. — The " men of reason." — War between the French and Spanish. — 
Massacre of San Saba. — Decline of the Missions. — Louisiana ceded to Spain. — Better 
times in Texas. — Louisiana ceded back to France. — The border question again. — The 
United States takes a hand. — Fearful murders and robberies. — Magec's expedition. — Des- 
perate battle. — ^Magee kills himself. — Surrender of his army. — They are barbarously 
massacred by the Spaniards. — Revolution in Mexico. — More trouble in Texas. — Mose^ 
and Stephen Austin. — Oppression of the Texans. — Revolution. — Heroic defense of the 
Alamo. — Fannin's command butchered. — Glorious victory of San Jacinto. — Independenc*'' 
and subsequent events. — Descriptive sketch of the State. .... 419-43? 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

KANSAS REVISITED. 

Through the new counties. — "Hard times."— The Grangers' War. — Woman suf' 
frage. — Allen County. — Neosho. — Labette. — The Bender murderers. — Their real fate.-^ 
Coffey ville. — Ten square miles of cattle! — "Not a good year for stock, either." — The 
cattle trails. — Montgomery County. — Kansas politics. — The Osage diminished Re- 
serve. — Independence City. — Elk River. — Wilson County. — Neodesha. — Kansas cotton. — 
Into the mound region. — Westward, ho! — Among the flint hills. — South-western Kansas. 
—General view of the State .... 432-446 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

COLORADO. 

W^estward again. — 1874. — Disappearance of the buffalo. — Reach Denver. — A long 
rest. — Narrow-guage for Georgetown. — The sublime and beautiful in Clear Creek 



CONTENTS. xiii 

Canon. — Floyd Hill. — Stage to Idaho Springs. — To Georgetown. — 2,000 miners. — But 
where are the women? — High climbs. — Cool retreats. — Independence Day on the 
summit of the Rocky Mountains. — Snow banks and iced brooks. — Beauties of the 
upper parks. — Drive to Gray's Peak. — The September storm. — Climb through snow 
and ice. — 14,400 feet above the sea. — And a fearful snow-stoi-m in summer. — Down 
to Denver. — Up to Caribou. — Wild beauty of Boulder Canon and Falls. — The rich 
silver lodes. — On the plains again. — Eide to Greeley and Evans. 447-46U 

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 

Coronado. — Mythologic age of Colorado. — Pike sees his Peak. — The hunters and 
trappers. — Bloody encounters. — Love, treachery, and retribution. — Gold! — The great 
rush.—" Pike's Peak." — Society takes shape. — Miners' laws. — People's courts. — Attempts 
at a Territory. — Successful at last: the 38th State. — Our life in Georgetown. — Griffith 
Mountain. — "The Holy Cross." — Rich silver mines. — The Dives-Pelican Lode. — 
Curiosities of mining. — " Sam Wann," or Juan. — Silver by millions. — Southern Colo- 
rado. — The White Desert. — Possibilities of the new State. . . . 470-489 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE MORMON MURDERERS. 

Another year in Utah. — Capture of John D. Lee. — His awful crime. — Mormon 
madness in 1857. — Assassination of Parley P. Pratt. — The doomed emigrants pass 
Salt Lake City. — Are harassed as they go south. — Attacked and besieged. — Surrender to 
Lee and others. — A plot hatched in hell. — The demon Higby gives the signal. — Fearful 
scenes of blood. — One hundred and thirty-one Americans fall victims to Mormon 
malice! — And the Governor of Utah "never heard of it!" — Brigham certifies to a 
falsehood. — And swears to another. — Strange chain of events leading to discovery. — Lee 
brought to trial. — Shameful farce of selecting jurymen. — A black case made out. — 
Brigham's remarkable deposition. 490-511 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY ? 

Astonishing conduct of Mormon jurymen. — They refuse to convict. — But the Mor- 
mon Church can not afford to sustain Lee any longer. — They decide to give him up. — 
Another trial in 187(5. — And a Mormon jury convict Lee. — Sentence pronounced by Judge 
Boreman. — Appeal. — Date of execution postponed to March, 1877. — Executed ujion the 
very spot of his ci'ime. — Lee's final and complete confession. — His last words. — His 
peaceful and heroic death. — Was Brigham Young guilty? — Brigham's apologists. — 
Captain John Codman, Geo. Q. Cannon, Gen. Thomas L. Kane. . . 512-530 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE NOBLE RED MAN. 

The tragedy of June 25th, 1876.— Sketch of Custer's life.— Hancock's campaign.— 
Custer's first Indian fight.— Massacre of Lieutenant Kidder and party.— Sully's cam- 
paign.— Custer's Washita campaign.— Yellowstone expedition.— Murder of Honzinger 
and Baliran.— Arrest and escape of Rain-in-the-Face.— Black Hills expedition.— Gold. 
—Events of 1875.— Campaign of 1876 against Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse.— Custer in 
disgrace at headquarters.— Descent on the hostile camp.— The bloody ending.— Sitting 
Bull goes to Canada, and Crazy Horse to the happy hunting grounds— perhaps. 531-557 



XIV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEK XXXIV. 

PROSPECTINO AND MIKING. 

"Hoodoo " mines. — Where not to look. — Geological formation of Mississippi Valley. 
— Into the mountains. — Looking for " float." — The amusing " pilgrim." — We find a " blos- 
som." — And post a notice. — Searching for "indications." — Proportion of metal found in 
(ire. — We have found a mine. — Taking out a United States Patent. — Counter claimants. 
— Summary of mining laws 558-567 

CHAPTEE XXXV. 

MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 

LeadviUe, the Magic City. — From Hoosicrdom to Denver. — Greenhorn Range. — The 
Royal Gorge. — Railroad enterprise. — Good spelling and bad pronunciation. — Grand 
scenery. — An artificial thaw. — Geological formation of Arkansas Valley. — Haphazard 
prospecting. — Yield of Leadville mines in 1880. —Future possibilities. — The romance 
cf Leadville. — Early discoveries. — The big strikes. — Sudden wealth and fast life. — A 
business of $18,000,000 a year. — The Grand Smelter. — An expert examination of ores. 
— The ides, the ets, and the ates. — Influence of mines on a locality. . . 568-585 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

MINING IN 1882. 

The trans-continental railways. — The Wild West abolished. — Railway development 
in New Mexico. — The Desert. — The Casas Grandas ruins. — The great Silver King mine. 
— Globe City. — Rough roads and alkali dust. — Tombstone. — The mining interests. — Fu- 
ture prospects. — A view of Arizona — New Mexico and Colorado. — Silver Cliffand Rosita. 
— Peculiar geological formation. — Increase in population of Colorado. — Denver. — The 
Black Hills. — Annual metal product of Colorado. — Natural wealth of the W'est. 586-596 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE DEAD PROPHET. 

Brigham dies. — His history.—" Hard working Brigham Young." — The Kirtland 
folly. — Brigham carries a level head. — Building up Nauvoo. — Martha Brotherton "blabs." 
— Hot water. — "Spiritual wifery" introduced. -" Persecution." — Death of Joe Smith. — 
Head of the Twelve Apostles. — .Journey to Salt Lake Valley. — Trouble with the United 
States. — As a marrying man. — His wives: Mary Ann, Lucy, Clara, Emmeline, Amelia, 
and others. — An extensive parent. — Division of his estate. — John Taylor comes into an 
easy succession. — Collapse of Brigham's great plans. — A discussion of the problem of 
Mormonism. — Declining. — Moral storm approaching. — Then comes a better day. 597-610 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE? 

Go West! — Southern Minnesota. — Iowa. — Southern Dakota. — Nebraska. — ^Kansas. 
The Indian Territory. — No! — Texas. — Don't believe all you hear! — The Indian bor- 
der. — California: Land monopoly. — Oregon. — Climate and soil.^"The Great American 
Desert." — Probable population in 1900. — Where is the surplus population to go? — Good 
land pretty well occupied. — What will be the result? — Western Wilds will continue wild 
for a eenturv to come 611-628 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Map of Aboriginal America Froktispiece 

The non-resident tax-payer 19 

"Our liberties, sir " 21 

" Civilized " 24 

" Thoroughly acclimated " 26 

" I hunted the pipe-works " ^ 

Mrs. Joe's " tantrums " 35 

" Made music all day " _ 40 

His last chance 45 

"Laying on of hands " 47 

" The good old time " 49 

"Only a memory" 51 

Pulpit Rock : Echo Cafion 54 

The Great Salt Lake 55 

On the slope of Griffith Mountain 56 

To the rendezvous 62 

Caiion de las Animas 65 

Getting down to the Cimarron 67 

For life or death 71 

"Someone came forward holding a cup " 73 

" The Mexicans saw no way " 74 

" Dolores fainted in my arms " 81 

" The balls whis^ :d around us " 85 

Brigham Young 90 

Orson Pratt 91 

George A. Smith 92 

Brigham's Residences 95 

Humboldt Palisades 105 

Seven thousand feet above the sea 107 

Cape Horn 108 

California Agricultural Report 112 

Barbary Coast: San Francisco 115 

"Bodaciously chawed up" 118 

Mormon wives for summer and winter 121 

Great expectations 135 

Dakotas torturing a Pawnee 138 

The two guardsmen 141 

The Fallen Monarch 142 

Something of a stump 143 

A monster 145 

Yosemite Falls 147 

El Capitan 149 

Bridal Veil Fall 152 

Sentinel Rock 155 

North Dome and Roj^al Arches 157 

Nevada Falls 159 

Vernal Falls 160 

Mirror Lake 161 

Mormon Militia 165 

Chloride Cave, Lion Hill 171 

Goshoot Love-feast 173 

Lost on the Desert 176 

Deacon Chew 183 

" They broke loose and lit out down the street " 184 

" And they clinched " 185 

"Half the town took ashy at him " 186 

The Seat of War 187 

"Where warring tribes met in peace" 189 

Fine field for the ethnologist 195 

"Slem-lem-an-dah-mouch-wah-ger " 201 

(XV) 



xvi ILL US TEA TIONS. 

PAGE 

"Go West" 211 

Wild Bill 2A3 

"Soatttiing leaden death on all sides" 214 

"Divide Hotel and Ranche" 216 

"Suggested wild beasts and banditti" 220 

The ambush and running light 225 

Pueblo Maiden 230 

Kit Carson 234 

Pueblo Cacique 235 

"Woman's Rights" 242 

Coming to the "count" 249 

On the Mesa Calabasa 269 

"Converted on the spot" 271 

Navajo Ijooni 2'/3 

Aztec Priest and Warrior 284 

Down the Cliff 294 

Climbing for water . . . \ 295 

Mouth ol' Pahreah Creek 301 

Head of the (irand Cailon 304 

"Three little Injuns" 312 

A Pi-Ede Ceres 313 

Winter camp of Goshoots 325 

Scenes on the Colorado Plateau 330 

" Dashed across the burning plain " 335 

Tliomas James kills the Bannock 346 

" Behold our Lamanite Brother" 3.56 

"Let me look toward old England before I die" 367 

" Willie has struck chloride " 369 

Shoshonees with annuity goods 372 

Burning of the Mormon Temple . . ' 375 

Killing of Secretary McCook 377 

Pembina people and ox-carts 3/9 

Winter in Minnesota pineries 380 

Minnehaha in winter 385 

Dalles of St. Louis River 389 

Blue Cafion, Sierra Nevada 391 

Cotillion on the stump of the mammoth tree 394 

View in the Modoc country 396 

Rapids, Upper Columbia ^02 

Cape Mendocino 



404 
410 



Comanche warrior 

"I spiled his aim" 416 

Un Indio Bravo ^21 

Texas and Coahuila in 1830 ^26 

General Sam Houston ^28 

" Droughty Kansas " ^33 

" Good Osage— Heap good Injun " -1^0 

Affluent of Clear Creek j49 

South-west from Gray's Peak 461 

Deadly combat of Vaughn and La Bonte 4^4 

Toiling up Griffith Mountain . 

Capture of John D. Lee 

Mountain Meadow Massacre 

Salt Lake City, 1857 

Execution of John D. Lee 

The Noble Red Man 

Scene of Sioux War of 1876 533 



480 
4',il 
498 
513 
525 
531 



" Busted 

Custer's first Indian Fight 



5:34 
536 



Rude Surgery of the Plains ^1 

Night Scene in the Cafion 



A new Mining Town 



571 

578 



Cape Horn and Rjvil-road, Sierra Nevada 588 

" Giantess," Big Geyser of the Yellowstone 594 

The Mormon Tabernacle ^^ 

Fort Massachu.«etts, New Mexico, 1855 <520 

The Prospector's Peril ^-4 



WESTERN WILDS, 



THE MEN WHO REDEEM THEM. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE HAWKEYES. 



The rolling prairies of Iowa were taking on their richest summer 
hues when I crossed from Prairie du Chien to McGregor, the first 
of June, 1868, and entered upon a three hundred mile walk across the 
State. The " Land of the Sleepy," as the aboriginal name implies, was 
just then the land of men particularly wide awake to their own inter- 
ests. I was but one of a grand army ever pushing westward — active, 
aggressive, and defiant of space and time. Iowa combined the advan- 
tages of both East and West, and men of all North-European races 
were crowding to possess it. 

There was the Yankee, moving on with that resistless energy which 
distinguishes the emigrant from our " Dorian Hive." More rarely ap- 
peared the " Buckeye " and " Hoosier ;" their route was a little farther 
south, for emigration pays some attention to isothermal lines, and as a 
rule older States settle the new States directly west of them. There 
was the blonde Swede, tall and sinewy, his blue eye lighting cheerfully 
at sight of such landed wealth, iji a clime a little milder than his own. 
Dane and Norwegian were also hurrying into north-western Iowa and 
southern Dakota. All these Scandinavian races are rarely seen south 
of latitude 40°, but fill whole townships in our new North-west. 
Dutch, Irish, Swiss, and North Germans contributed each a small 
t][uota. One might have fancied himself borne forward on the crest of 
that great Aryan wave which rolled westward and northward from Ba- 
bel's plains. Four years after I found many of these emigrants in Da- 
kota ; already at home upon well-improved farms, and surrounded with 
most of the comforts of life. 

2 (17) 



18 WESTERN WILDS. 

Iowa and Minnesota were doubtless settled by the best class of im- 
init:;rants that ever left the East. Their laws are favorable, their insti- 
tutions progressive. Born republicans, these new-comers fell, by nat- 
ural law, into free and progressive commonwealths. At first view one 
would say that our mother P^nglish was in danger of being lost, and 
that a new language would, ere long, rise in these mixed communities. 
But English is the language of progress, and that tongue in which laws 
are written and courts conducted will in time become the ver- 
nacular of any new country. In no part of America is a purer English 
spoken. The native of Indiana finds, when settled beside the Yankee, 
that he must drop some of his " Hoosierisms ;" while the accent ar I 
idiom brought from "Down East" are insensibly modified, till the 
children of both compromise on the written language. Two hundred 
years ago when a man spoke in the British Parliament it was known 
on the instant what shire he represented; travel and civilization have 
since made the cultured Northumbrian and East Angle to be of one 
speech. 

No grammar of the " Hoosier " language has ever been published. 
Before it becomes extinct, as have so many dialects, it may be well for 
one who spoke it in his childhood to fix a few of its idioms. It abounds 
in negatives. Unlike English and Latin, an abundance of negatives 
is held to strengthen the sentence. " Don't know nothing " is com- 
mon. " See here," says the native, looking for work, to the farmt/, 
" you don't know o' nobody what don't want to hire nobody to do 
nothiu' nowhere around here, don't you?" "No," is the reply, "I 
don't." " I reckon " is a fair offset for the Yankee " I guess " — the one, 
as; commonly used, about as reasonable as the other. But it is on the 
verb to do that the " Hoosier " tongue is most effective. Here is the 
ordinary conjugation : 

Present Tense. — Regular, as in English. 

Imperfect Tense. — I done it, you done it, he done it. Plural — AVe 'uns 
done it, you 'uns done it, they 'uns done it. 

Perfect Tense. — I gone done it, you gone done it, he gone done it. 
Plural — We 'uns gone done it, you 'uns gone done it, they 'uns gone 
done it. 

Pluperfect. — I bin gone done it, you bin gone done it, etc. 

First Future. — I gwinc to do it, you gwine to do it, etc. 

Second Future. — I gwine to gone done it, etc. Plural — We 'uns 
gwine to gone done it, you 'uns gwine to gone done it, they 'uns gwine 
to gone done it. 

Philologically this language is the result of a union between the rude 



THE HAWKEYES. 19 

translations of " Pennsylvania Dutch," the negroisms of Kentucky and 
Virginia, and certain phrases native to the Ohio Valley; and in my 
boyhood I often heard it verbatim as here given. 

The Iowa pioneers had developed a marked faculty for taking care of 
themselves, and making the non-resident owner of real estate help de- 
velop the country. Three-fourths of the taxation was laid upon land, 
chattels being almost exempt ; and, in the valuation, no distinction was 
made between slough and upland, vacant and imp^'oved. Villages, 
Y.-here there was much non-resident property, w^ere generally well im- 
proved; and the side-walks were always best before the non- 
I'isident's lots, direct taxation being in the same ratio. If he did 
r/ot come out and enjoy the promenade he had paid for, 
it was his own fault. The school laws of low^a are sur- 
prisingly liberal in this respect, allowing a school in 
every township or district where there are six children. 
The citizens have the right to organize a school district 
as they will, regardless of their number. One worthy 
in Wright County, finding himself, wife and seven chil- 
dren to be the only inhabitants of the township, forth- 
Avith called a school meeting, notices being posted ac- 
cording to law, elected himself director, fitted up one 
room in his dwelling for a school, and employed his the nox-resident 
oldest daughter to teach the other six children. Thus 
he gave character to the settlement, and raised the money to im- 
j rove his farm by simple compliance with the law. And do such a 
people require Congressional protection from the bond-holders and 
grasping monopolists of the East? 

Lit the end of a week's leisurely travel, I was eighty miles from the 
Mississippi, and the appearance of the country had greatly changed. 
There were vast tracts of unsettled prairie; timber had grown scarcer; 
cultivated farms were rare, and just as the space between them increased 
the people grew warmer in their welcome. I was now away from the 
-main line of emigration; and families in out-of-the-way places are 
'nearly always hospitable. The chance traveler is as good as a newspaper, 
and is apt to be put to press on arrival. I soon learned to dread the 
wooded vales along the larger streams on account of the heat. To leave 
the high prairie for the "bottom" was like going from balmy May to 
sultry July. Regions where there is much wind are generally health- 
ful; but when the wind falls one is liable to fall with it. There are no 

.otter districts in the Union than Iowa and Minnesota during those 
very brief periods in summer when a dead calm prevails. Though I 




20 ^ WESTERN WILDS. 

had started an invalid, every day's walk made it easy to walk a little 
farther the next; and at the end of the second week I easily made 
twenty miles a day. If a man would be cured by nature, he must trust 
her — be taken to her bosom, as it were. Many an invalid goes West 
for health, and imagines the climate has cured him, when, in truth, he 
has only forgotten his physic, and been charmed out of his cares, and 
taken to open air and abundant exercise. 

Iowa Falls, where the Iowa River leaves the "summit divide "prairies 
and plunges down a sei'ies of beautiful cascades to the level of the lower 
valley, was the location of the prettiest city on my route, and then the 
terminus of the Dubuque and Sioux City road. Thence I journeyed 
up Coon River and out to Wall Lake. To vi^it this place had been a 
dream of my boyhood. Twenty-five years ago it was represented as a 
marvelous work of the "mound builders." I found the "walls" there 
not so wonderful as described, but well worthy a visit; not the work 
of any prehistoric race, but due entirely to the expansive force of ice. 
In the vicinitv are at least a dozen lakes with the same formation — 
some even more curious than the one most noted. They are on the 
"divide," between the waters which flow northward into the Minne- 
sota and those which drain southward; and in all countries such a 
resiion abounds in lakes. The Iowa winters freeze the lakes almost 
solid, and the ice gathers up stones, pebbles and mud, and year after 
year pushes them toward the shore; then when the lake is full and 
frozen, it drives them with resistless energy into the "wall," till tlie 
latter looks like the most compact of man-made masonry. In some 
instances the water has cut a new outlet and drained the lake, and 
w'ithin a few years nature has begun the formation of a new wall inside 
the old one. Swans and wild geese abound in this region, which 
warmly invites the tourist, the scientist and tlie sportsman. 

AVestward again, and nothing but prairie to be seen ; an average of 
two or three families to the township, and half a day's travel at a time 
without sight of a house. The SAviftly running streams, Avith hard bot- 
toms and pebbly banks, disappear, and sluggish sloughs take their place. 
Down a long slope for six or eight miles, the road brings one at last to 
a slough, sometimes with current enough to be called a creek, along 
which is found a scattering growth of timber, and sometimes a few en- 
closed farms. Thence one rises by slow^ degrees to another divide, and 
again down a slope to the next creek and settlement, from ten to thirty 
miles from the last. But the wave of immigration was rolling in; the 
railroad had been located on this route, and now the line I traversed 
presents a constant succession of cultivated fields and tasty homes; a 



THE HAWKEYES. 



21 



region rich with orchards, white and red with clover-tops, or yellow 
with heavy-headed grain. Then there was but one railroad across the 

State; now there are four from the Mississippi to the J^Iissouri all 

stimulated by the completion of the Union Pacific. Then Iowa had 
one acre in seventeen under cultivation ; now she has one in ten, and a 
population of nearly two millions. With less waste land than any 
other State, except possibly Illinois, Iowa could sustain a population 
of fifteen millions, not merely in comfort, but in affluence. What 
American realizes the prospective greatness of that tier of States just 
west of the Mississippi? Minnesota has 30,000 square miles of wheat- 
producing soil; Iowa has more arable land than England; Missouri 
has more iron, coal, timber and water-power than Prussia ; Arkansas in 
extent and richness fairly rivals the Kingdom of Italy; and Louisiana, 
besides her sugar and cotton, runs two State governments, de- 
cides the presidential election, and has a heavy crop of statesmen to 
spare. 

The scarcity of timber through this section had stimulated the inven- 
tion of substitutes. The chief novelty was wire fence, usually made 
by fastening three wires on a row of posts with slip cleats. This was 
only to turn cat- 
tle; but a flmcy 
article was made 
with six strands, 
which rendered it 
in local parlance 
" horse-high, bull- 
strong and pig- 
tight." Most of 
the counties 
thought it cheaper 
to forbid pigs run- 
ning at large. In 

Missouri and the timbered portions of the border States, I heard this 
statute denounced in much the same terms as the prohibitory liquor 
law— "an invasion of our liberties, sir!" Further north 'populai 
sentiment was expressed in the pithy saying: "A man's a hog that '11 
let a hog run." Iowa, by an overwhelming majoritv, had equally 
prohibited errant hogs and free whisky. Minnesota, when I resided 
there in 1859, still held many of the traditions of Maine, whence 
most of the pioneers had come, and had equally condemned the sale of 
intoxicants. But western manners proved too strong for both States, 




"OUK LIBEKTIES, SIK 



22 WESTERN WILDS. 

for in the larger towns at least the traffic was, and is, open and 
unrestricted. 

Drawing near the Missouri I found the country rising into long 
ridges and abrupt swells of land, the sloughs disappearing for the most 
part^ and clear streams again taking their place. The grasshoppers had 
come in to desolate the few settlements, and for two days' travel I heard 
little but complaints and forebodings. Their method that season was 
peculiar. They traveled along a defined track, generally not more 
than a mile wide ; but over that area they covered the ground, while 
the air seemed full of white specks, the creatures flying as high as one 
could see. Before them were green prairies, fields rich in clover, corn 
and wheat; behind them blackness, desolation and mourning. But 
while I studied them a strong wind sprang up from the east, and in a 
few hours they disappeared and were seen no more ; not, however, until 
they had destroyed about half the crops in three counties. Whence 
come they, and whither do they go? Science and unlearned conjecture 
seem equally at fault. It is certain that they can only breed on high 
and dry ridges and plains, and a wet season is fatal to them. An old 
and abandoned road is their favorite hatching ground. For the most 
part they confine their ravages to the border, but occasionally they 
sweep in destructive columns far down toward the Mississippi. A few 
years later I was destined to have an unpi-ofitable experience with them 
in Kansas, after the State had been free from them seven years, and the 
least hopeful believed that their day had passed forever. 

From this region I turned south-west, and the last of June crossed 
the Missouri to the metropolis of Nebraska. Omaha was then the city 
of promise. Whether that promise has been fulfilled is a matter of 
doubt with many who were then sanguine. The rivalry with Council 
Bluffs, on the Iowa side, was intense and amusing. On the west bank, 
one heard contemptuous allusions to " the Bluffs," " East Omaha," and 
" Milkville." On the other side there were withering sarcasms about 
"Bilkville," "Traintown," "Omahawgs," "Omahens," and "The 
U. P. Station across the river." The editors on one side, according to 
their statements, made their "libelous contemporaries" on the other 
"squirm" almost daily. To the stranger, who had no possessions in 
either place, it was a free comedy. The " Omahawgs," with cheerful 
disregard of grammar, spoke of their city as the "initial terminus" (in 
English, "beginning-end") of the Union Pacific Railroad, and future 
entrepot of the California, China and Australia trade. It did look 
reasonable that they should build up a great city, and cheering proph- 
ecies were abundant. Somehow thev have been slow of fulfillment. A 



THE HAW KE YES. 23 

careful census by the city authorities made the population 19,000. The 
next year they modestly estimated it in round numbers at 25,000; and 
the next came a great epidemic (of United States officials) and swept 
off half the number, for the United States census of 1870 credits Omaha 
with less than 13,000 inhabitants. The city is cosmopolitan. First 
Street is located in the river (at high water), and the first seven streets 
are supposed to be on the sandbar. The city begins at Eighth 
Street, and the location of the fashionables is from Eighteenth to 
Twenty-fifth Streets, on Capitol Hill. Such are the pleasing self-delu- 
sions of the expanding mind in the glorious free and boundless AVest. 

It was the notable hot season in Nebraska, and a week in the metrop- 
olis satisfied me. Thence I sought the country by way of the old Cali- 
fornia trail, and traveled a month in rural Nebraska — first in the valley 
of the Papilion (which the people persist in calling Pappeo), and thence 
to Fontanelle and up the Elkhorn through what is considered the gar- 
den spot of Northern Nebraska. It is a region rich in natural wealth, 
and was even then so handsomely improved that travel through it was 
a constant delight. There were miles of corn-fields, with heavy crops, 
and tracts of wheat just ready for harvesting, farm products of all kinds 
in abundance, and plenty blessing the industrious farmer. Planted 
timber of nearly all kinds grows rapidly, cottonwood and locust es- 
pecially; nearly every settler has an artificial grove, and these are 
abundant enough to greatly beautify the landscape. The soil is deep 
and rich, the country gently rolling, high, dry and healthful. The 
wheat through that region averaged tM'cnty-five bushels per acre that 
year. For the width of the State north and south, and a hundred and 
fifty miles back from the Missouri, almost every acre is adapted for the 
production of grain. Thirty thousand square miles of land give abun- 
dant room for an agricultural population of a million. West of the 
area I have thus bounded, the land rises more into the barren ridges ; 
only the valleys are very fertile, and most of the country is valuable 
only for grazing. Society is well organized; churches and' schools have 
been handsomely provided for; vacant land in the fertile section is 
still abundant and cheap, and if one is native to any latitude north 
of 36°, Nebraska offers him first-class inducements. 

The Indian still lingered. The Pawnees were the local aborigines, 
but Omahas (properly Mahaws) and Otoes were common, all three be- 
ing among the most unprepossessing of the race. Long observation 
has convinced me that those tribes which fringe the white settle- 
ments, hanging between civilization and barbarism, always include 
the meanest looking specimens. Of course, I except the civilized res- 



24 



WESTERN WILDS. 



idents of the Indian Territory. Cooper's Indians are extinct, but the 
" noble red man," in a certain sense, does exist, and I have seen him. 
But not near the settlements. One must go far into the interior, 
Avhere they are the style and he the oddity, to see really interesting In- 
dians. How inferior are the Pawnees to the Sioux, the Kaws to the 
Utes, the Osages and Otoes to the Navajoes! A few tribes may pass 
successfully across the awful gulf between savage life and civilized, but 
there is a fearful waste of raw material in the process. 

IVIy travels in Nebraska drew near a 
close, and I stood at evening of a beauti- 
ful summer day, upon a lofty hill that 
overlooked the fertile Platte Valley. 
Southward the scene was bounded by the 
heavy timber lining that stream; east- 
ward I looked over a landscape rich in 
natural and artificial beauty to the for- 
ests on the Missouri ; northward the 
winding Elkhorn could be traced many 
a mile by the tasteful groves which adorn 
its bluffs, while westward the view was 
free to the meeting of earth and sky. 
That way lay adventure and novel scenes ; 
that way I was mightily drawn. The 
haze of evening softened the outlines of a 
beautiful landscape ; from the eastward came the rumble and smoke of 
a Union Pacific train dashing out for Cheyenne, while westward up 
the valley a vagrant party of Pawnees were fast pressing out of sight. 
The scene was an emblem of progress. I breathed the spirit of border- 
land poetry. The Bedouin instinct stirred within me, and I burned to 
hasten my departure to that newer West, which ah'cady made this region 
seem old. But before I enter on the long detail of my Western wan- 
derings, let me briefly sketch the labors and perils of a '49-er, who 
passed that way nineteen years before me. 




■ CIVILIZKL). 



CHAPTER II. 

A WESTEEN CHARACTER. 

Unconscious greatness is a Western product. There many a man, 
in pursuance of the humblest duties, becomes a hero without knowing 
it. One such let me celebrate. A most modest hero, he had seen the 
world without intending it; had lived a romance in the mere earning 
of a livelihood, and grown great in simple-hearted obedience to family 
affection. 

In the autumn of 1873 I made a leisurely journey through the new 
counties of southern Kansas. The Osage Ceded Lands, which only 
five years before had been a game preserve for vagrant aborigines, were 
now dotted with neat villages flanked by well cultivated farms. From 
the summit of a lofty mound in Montgomery County one could look 
over 500 square miles of rolling prairie and fertile valley, the home of 
20,000 Americans. Westward the land rose more into barren ridges, 
beyond which were the fertile slopes of Cowley County and the new 
country on the Arkansas. Between was a region almost unsettled ; the 
rocky ridges were fit only for pasturage, and the narrow valleys were neg- 
lected till better places should be filled. There one might ride for 
hours without sight of a dwelling, fortunate at night if a settler's cabin 
furnished him shelter in a room common to all the family. At the 
close of a September day I had ridden ten miles without sight of a 
house, and eagerly scanned the horizon. A horseman from the opposite 
direction hailed me with equal eagerness to learn the distance to Elk 
Falls, his first chance for the night. On learning that it was ten miles, 
he indulged in a prolonged whistle, and in turn informed me he knew 
of no house on this road for fifteen miles. " But," he added, reflect- 
ively, "ther's old Darnells, only a mile off the road, down Grouse 
Creek. They'll keep you if you're a mind to stop there. They've got 
plenty, too, such as it is, and the old woman's a prime cook, and '11 set 
it 'fore you warm and clean. The old man's the wust shuck up settler 
on the creek, what with rheumatiz and ager and the swamps and one 
thing an' another ; but git him stirred up and he's a powerfiil talker. 
Heap o' life in him yet." 

So I went to Darnells. 

(25) 



26 



WESTERN WILDS. 



The first show was not inviting. A rambling, double-log house of 
the South-western pattern — practically two cabins under one roof, with 
a broad covered passage between. But many a pleasant night have I 
passed, and eaten many savory meal, in those same double-log cabins; 
and in the long hot days of summer, south of latitude 40°, I know of 
no better place to loll away the delightful after-dinner hour than in the 
open passage aforesaid. 

INIy host was indeed "shuck up," "doubled up," too, I should say. 
"Fcvcrnagcr," Arkansas swamps, and prairie sloughs had done their 
appointed work on him, and he was that perfect wreck, a "thoroughly 
acclimated man." He was, in local phrase, "yaller behind the gills;" 
his face was of a pale orange tint, his cheeks a dirty saifron, while 
along the neck his skin resembled a ripe pumpkin speckled with coffee 

grounds. He re- 
ceived me with 
dignified wel- 
come — in these 
M'ilds no question 
is made as to 
lodging the be- 
lated traveler — 
and referred the 
matter of supper 
to "the old wo- 
man." 

One glance at 
her revealed the 
Cherokee 1 i n e- 
age. The deep, 
dark eye with 
slightly melan- 
choly cast, the 
straight black hair, and nose just aquiline enough to give piquancy to 
the countenance, indicated the quarter-blood ; while her air and bear- 
ing gave a hint of Ross or Boudinot stock — the aristocracy of that most 
aristocratic of all our aboriginal races. The supper was a surprise. 
She had evidently learned cooking in better schools than south-western 
cabins supply. Like him, she seemed preternaturally quiet, as if ab- 
sorbed in thought; they lived in the past, and to them Kansas was not 
the home of the soul. New countries should be settled only by the 
young, for the tree of deepest root bears transplanting but poorly. 




" THOROUGHLY ACCLIMATED." 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. TI 

The broad, red sun was just dipping into the prairie horizon, when a 
gray haze overspread the kindscape, creeping up from the sluggish 
stream. The okl man waved his hand toward it with the brief but 
expressive phrase, "break-bone fever," and we retired to the cabin and 
evening fire. As we filled and lighted the inevitable cob pipe, com- 
mon in the South-west, I spoke of Andrew Jackson's love of the same, 
and his Tennessee habits, whereat my host broke out with sudden ani- 
mation : 

"Ah, you're from Tennessee, a'nt you?" 

"Not exactly," was my reply, "but I know and like the State." 

" Well, I was raised there, right on the banks of the Tennessee, but 
I was born just over the line in Alabama. Yes, sir, sixty-four years 
ago, in Glen Cove, I tuck my first view of life. Nicest climate in this 
world, sir, and bad as I've seen it tore up since, I don't want no better 
country." 

"But how came you to leave, if it was so good a country?" 

"Well, a good many things happened; sort o' riled the current and 
spiled me for a steady life, though I'm pretty well anchored now, for a 
fact;" and glancing at his distorted limbs, he relapsed into speechless- 
ness, puffing at his cob pipe, and waiting, Indian fashion, for the talk to 
break out naturally. Hot youth was more impatient of time, and I 
asked : 

"If no offense, what caused you to leave that country for this?" 

"Well, I did'nt leave there for here; that would be too big a 
change. They was many haps and mishaps between. It happened 
along o^ family matters and the war. You see they was five brothers 
of us and one sister, me the oldest; and mammy sort o' give the rest 
in my charge. Poor mammy, she never seed any of us old enough to 
be sure of." 

"But how about your father?" 

"AYell, daddy was a little onsettled; along o' trips down into the 
Cherokee country and tradin with the Injins — in fact he let his little 
finger ride his thumb too often, and his eyesight weakened on it." 

This was a delicate allusion to his father's intemperance, given in 
the figurative language of the South-west. 

"Fact, he took me down among the Injins in Geawjay and North 
Alabama one trip — fine country that, too ; altogether too fine for the 
Injins to keep if the whites wanted it — but daddy went off at last, and 
that was the how of my first trip. He went off on a broad-horn. You 
don't know what a broad-horn is. No? Well, it's a flat-boat of the 
old rig ; and the men come back without him. Them days they com- 



28 WESTERN WILDS. 

monly walked back from Xoo Orlcens thro' the Injin fomitry. All 
they said was he had lost all his money, and swore he'd never come 
back till he could come full-handed. Mammy was ailin' then, and 
after that she never seemed to pick up any ; and the day I was sixteen 
she called me close to the bed and she said: 'Willy, you go find him, 
and bring him back, for when he dies he'll never be easy 'cept beside 
me,' and then she laid on me the charge of all the other five — and, 
stranger, I can't somehow talk about that time, but just a week after 
they was only me and Myra and the four little boys left. I tell you it 
was a sad time. I've only seen one worse and that was in the war. 

" I hadn't time to cry much, for I had a family on my hands and 
mighty little to go on except the place. We all worked and made a 
crop, and then I fixed things up a little, and got a neighbor to take the 
place — mighty nice people they was then in old Tennessee — and I 
started to find dad." 

" AVhat ! went to find your father at that age ? " 

"Yes," said the old man simply, " mammy had said so, and of 
course it had to be done. Daddy had been gone a year, when I took 
a broad-horn to Xoo Orleens, and when I was paid off on the levee, 
I was the worst lost man you ever did see. In the middle of the 
thickest woods in the world wasn't a circumstance to it. Suc^h crowds 
and crowds of people, and ships and boats and stores, and men all 
rushing here and yandcr, enough to distract you. Why, they wan't 
more'n one man in four understood a word I said. In all my life I'd 
never heard of any language but wliite-man and Injin, and there was 
I'ortagee. Mexican, Gumbo, French and Coaster, talkin' every thing, 
and all mixed up. ]\Iy head was a swimmin — just off' the boat, you 
know — and sometimes I half reckoned I'd walked right out o' the 
Ark and into the brick-yard at the Tower o' Babel ; for I'd read o' 
that anyhow, and might a' known how things would be in Xoo Or- 
leens if I'd a thought. But says I to myself, no time to cry now ; 
I'm here. So I went about asking every man that understood me if 
he'd seed a man named Hiram Darnell. Well, some of 'em cussed 
me, and most paid no attention to me; but bimeby one chap says: 
' Oh, yes, I know Mr. Darnell ; he's up on Chapitooley Street a chawin' 
rags for a paper mill.' And another said : ' He was at the pipe- 
works, and they was trainin' him to go through a drain-pipe,' and all 
such stuff". 

"Well, I was that green I hunted the pipe-works, and there they 
sent me to a leather store to buy 'straj)-oil,' and told me a lot more 
stuff*. Then I walked all over the city, miles an' miles an' miles, 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 



29 




I HUNTED THE I'lPK- 
WOKKS." 



lookin' close at every body I seed, an' it seemed to me I seed every 
body but dad. In less'n a month all my money -vvas gone, an' I felt 
awful streaked. But I lit on another feller who told me the risht 
track, and we did find out where dad had worked _____ 

a while ; but he was gone, and finally the police 
said he wan't in Xoo Orleens now. So I went to 
work on the levee a while haulin' and pitch in', 
but it was awful hot then. A feller's shadder at 
noon was right 'tween his feet, and 'fore long I 
struck an ole pard o' dads, and found he'd gone 
away up Red River, in the new country. So I ^>, 
went deck-hand on a boat up Red River, and they 
was nothing like so many folks up there, an' people 
more civil ; an' I traced him all through Arkan- 
saw toward the Injin country. But it took a 
might of time. Sometimes I worked and some- 
times I walked, and at last got where there was 
no houses hardly, and many a time I was alone 
all day in the woods, and more'n once nearly lost 
in the big swamps. At last I got into a more open country and some 
new settlements about Fort Smith, and then I fell in with some Cher- 
okees, and sure enough they knowed dad. 

'' You see, a lot o' Cherokees moved out there away back before 
Jackson come in first time, and dad had his old liking for the tribe, 
and had fell in with them, and away up in the timber I found him at 
last. But, law, how he was changed ! He come out of a cabin and 
looked at me as if I was a stranger. AVhat with hot weather and 
whisky and the trouble and yaller fever, he wasn't just clear in his 
mind, and what to do I didn't know. But I'd learnt something by 
that time, so I watched around and got him fixed up a little, and with 
a good family, an' I went to work again. The Cherokees was fixin' 
up considerably, an' I made a pretty good job at rough carpentering; 
and there I worked a whole year." 

" You must have been rather home-sick by that time." 
" Well, I was a little anxious about the boys. Myra was nearly 
fifteen when I left; then come Joe, thirteen; him I played with, an' 
had more to do with than any of the boys. Many's the hour we've 
fished an' hunted along the Tennessee. Poor Joe! I've seen the 
time since when I wished he was a boy agin, but," with a sud- 
den burst of triumph, "I stuck by him to the last, as I'd promised 
mammy." 



30 WESTERN WILDS. 

Here the old man fell into such a protracted reverie, that I ven- 
tured to recall him to the Arkansas and his father. 

/'Oh, yes, I clean forgot. Well, in a year dad was so mneli better 
that Ave started home, takin' a job on another boat to Xoo Orleens to 
shorten up the walk a little." 

The calm way in which he spoke of shortening i\\Q Avalk from Fort 
Gibson to East Tennessee, was wonderfully suggestive. If it had 
been around the world, he would have entered on it with the same reso- 
lution, as something that was not to be talked about, but done. 

" \yhen we got to Noo Orleens and got paid off, we fixed up with 
some clean clothes, lookin' real human again, and started home. But it 
seemed like every thing was agin us. The trail then led away from the 
river, and sort o' north and east, nearly straight toward the l)end o' 
the Tennessee. We worried along with heat, for it was late, till Ave 
struck the edge of the Injun country, wliere we found every tiling all 
tore up. I never got the hang of it exactly ; but the States was a 
pressin' the Injins to go, an' some wanted to an' some didn't; and the 
Choctaws they was a fussin' with their agents, an' the Cherokees a 
flghtin' with one another, an' there was murder an' robbery an' horse- 
stealin' all over the country, an' their light-horse companies out arrcstin' 
every body that passed on the roads. How I got along I don't know. 
Every time I laid down in an Injun cabin it seemed to me I'd have 
my throat cut 'fore mornin' ; but dad talked the lingo like a born 
Injin, so they couldn't come no tricks in our hcarin', an' every night 
I dreamed I saw mammy, an' she looked kind o' glad, an' th(iugh she 
said nothin', her looks meant plain enough : ' Don't cry, Willy, you'll 
get home all right.' 

" But when we got to the Cherokee country it was worst of all. 
They was two parties in the tribe, Hossites and Ridgites, and just then 
the Rossites got up an' murdered a chief named Mcintosh an' a lot of 
other Ridgitcs, an' swore that every Injun that said 'go' should be 
served the same way. They stopped us, an' wouldn't let us go through 
at all. They pow- wowed around with us for two months; then come 
along some that knowed Daddy, an' they said he should go or they'd 
have blood. So it was settled that I was to stay an' him go on, an' if 
it proved we was all right, I was to be let go in so long a time. When 
the time come they turned me loose, an' I started north on the first 
road I struck. But I was powerfully out o' conceit with the redskins, 
an' the first tAvo nights I slept out. 

"It was then September, an' the next day, Avhcn I thought I was 
near the Tennessee, all at once I took so cold I seemed like I'd chill to 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 31 

death, an' pretty soon so hot that I stopped at a spring an' drunk an' 
drunk till I staggered 'round like I had a load of whisky on. An' 
when night come on, I kept gettin' up an' layin' down first one place 
an' then another, an' then huntin' water an' tryin' to get into a house 
that was right afore me, an' yet I couldn't somehow locate it. All at 
once I come on Joe, an' I cried like a child, an' begged him to take me 
in an' give me a drink. It 'pearcd like Joe was scared of me, an' run, 
an' I run an' called to him all night thro' the woods. Then it come 
on to rain, an' I got doAvn by a tree, an' it seemed like Joe was jist 
t'other side of the tree, an' wouldn't come an' help me. So I got up 
an' staggered on, an' all at once I was at myself, settin' at the foot of 
another tree, an' somebody was callin' thro' the woods for milk cows. 
And when the voice come near me I set doAvn an' cried, for it made me 
think o' Mammy and Myra — it was so soft an' sweet. Then a girl 
come up, and I tried to speak, but shivered an' shook that bad I 
couldn't say a word. But how pretty that little white Cherokee 
looked ! Stranger, you have no idee. No woman you ever see could 
ekal her." 

I was about to demur to this, when the fire blazed up brightly, and 
I glanced across the hearth at the "old woman;" and— was it fancy? or 
did the lines in the poor, worn old face seem to fade away, and a trem- 
ulous softness steal into the dark eyes? I suspended criticism, and 
after a brief reverie my host continued: 

" Well, I sunk down agin, an' the next I recollect I was in a cabin, 
an' an old conjurer was pow-wowing over me. She was the blackest, 
grizzliest old Cherokee I ever seed ; an' as she muttered some heathen 
stuff, an' rattled a little bell, she sometimes went to the door and 
stroked her face and kissed her hand to the sun, an' somehow I got the 
idee she was the same as the pretty little girl that found me, an' the 
notion of the change made me cry agin. The next ten days I don't 
know much about, only they had a regular doctor once or twice ; an' 
all at once I woke one clear morning, an' there set the pretty little 
Cherokee, an' my head was all right agin. 

"But law, stranger, I was that weak! They was white Cherokees 
that picked me up— the man a Scotchman, married to a half-blood 
woman, and some of the best folks I ever struck. It Avas weeks be- 
fore I could Avalk a quarter ; then I got strong pretty fast, and bimeby 
along came dad huntin' for me. An' that girl — well, I reckon she 
spared nothin' that cabin could aiford to help me get well. She used 
to sing the Cherokee songs, and her mother Avould tell all about the 
travels and troubles of the tribe from the time they left the Yemas- 



32 WESTERN WILDS. 

see. in Carolina, till now. And when I was able to go it seemod like 
a dream — as if I hadn't been there a week. It was over two yeais 
I'd been gone, but every thing was right at home. After that I had 
business every two or three months down in the Cherokee Nation, an' 
all at once the troubles started up again. The rights of it I no more 
understood than I did the other trouble, only tiiat Jackson had 
come in President, and took the part of Geawgey and Alabama agin 
the Injins, an' swore they'd got to go anyhow, an' then they quar- 
reled among themselves agin. Then her flithcr died — the little white 
Cherokee I mean — and her mother was all put out about the troubles, 
but finally said she must go with her people, and claim her head- 
rights on the land where they was to settle. Then I spoke to the 
little girl — well, to make a long story short, I've tried for thirty years 
to pay up, but I'm still in her debt, an' to me she's just as pretty as 
she was the mornin' she found me in the woods." 

And now I Avas sure it was no fancy, for the "old woman" had 
crossed the hearth and taken the gray head in her hands; the sad, 
dark eye v/as again lighted with the gleam of youthful love, the 
wrinkles gave place to smiles, and the worn face was transformed into 
something far beyond the beautiful. It was divine. 

"So your troubles ended in joy at last," said I. 

"Yes, I reckon you may say so;" then, with his pipe relighted, 
he puifed away in silence. He had acquired one habit of his stolid 
Indian friends — the habit of having fits of silence, waiting on the stim- 
ulus of smoke. Two lads of sixteen or seventeen years came in with 
the proceeds of a day's hunt. 

"Our grandsons," said the hostess, in a half-apologetic tone, "and 
about all the dependence we've got now." 

This was her first and last observation, and we seemed in a fair way 
to smoke the evening away in silence, when one of the young men 
threw a fresh knot on the fire. It bluzed up brightly, and, with In- 
dian suddenness, the old man broke out again : 

" It was a bad thing, a bad, mean thing, the way them people was 
rooted out. Just think of a whole people, sixteen or eighteen thou- 
sand, lots of 'em with good farms, an' houses, an' shops, an' startin' 
schools an' newspapers, havin' to pull up whether or no, with soldiers 
to prod them along with bayonets, an' go away off to a country they 
didn't like, an' M'here lots an' lots of 'em died ! Well, that's what 
they done." 

"You mean the Cherokees." 

" Yes, my wife's folks all went with 'em. So we bought a place of 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 33 

a Cherokee that was leaving, an' worked it five years, an' got every 
thing fixed beautiful, with lots of stock and grain. But it seemed like 
they was no luck in that cussed country ; anyhow, I was turned out 
bag an' baggage." 

"Turned out! How? Did you lose your land?" 

" Well, yes ; it amounted to that finally." 

He seemed desirous of giving the story, and yet was reluctant to 
begin. 

" But how did it happen ? " I persisted. 

" Well, stranger, I never just got the right of it, an' for a long time 
I never liked to think of it, for I always got mad an' swore under my 
breath, an' it worried the old woman, an' made me lose sleep, an' so 
I've pretty much quit thinkin' about it. You see when the Injins 
left, there was a deal of swindlin'. Most of 'em was ignorant, an' 
some signed away their land when drunk, an' a few rascally Injins 
traveled 'round with the speculators, signin' away others' rights, an' 
swearin' they was the ones. A man just come up one day with a 
deed to my land, an' the court pow-wowed awhile about it and said 
it was his'n, an' I just had to clear." 

" But you had your stock." 

"Well, no, not exactly. You see I lawed him awhile, an' the court 
made me pay for that, an' my lawyer cost something; an' the height 
of it was, when the thing was done I just put my wife on the only 
boss we had left, with a little one behind her, an' the baby in her 
arms, an' me an' the oldest boy walked, an' we went back to Ten- 
nessee." 

"And began again without a cent !" 

" Well, not that exactly. I raised some money in a year or two. 
But somehow it didn't seem the old thing to me there, an' so we come 
over west of the mountains, an' got a little piece of land in Coffee 
County, an' that was our home tl^l we come out here. After all we've 
got along, an' I've never been in jail but once." 

" In jail ! Why you never committed any crime?" 

" No, but come mighty nigh it once — near enough to be took up an' 
mighty nigh hung for it. But that was out in Iowa." 

" So you did take another trip, after all." 

" Yes ; it was along o' the boys, specially brother Joe — him that 1 
always sot most store by. Joe married young — married an Irish girl 
in the neighborhood, though all of us opposed it. I could see she 
had temper ; but every feller's got to take his chances on that, anyhow. 
You know how that is." 
3 



34 WESTERN WILDS. 

"No, I can't say as I do. But how did he get along?" 

" Well, there was trouble. An' binieby I persuaded Joe if they'd 
get aAvay from both their folks it would be better; so he went to In- 
jeanny, and then to Illinoy, Well, it seems like when folks get started 
that way they keep goin' and goin'. One place is too hot and another 
too cold, an' here its sickly an' there they's bad neighbors, and so on. 
Leastways it was that way with Joe, and finally he landed in the Half- 
breed Tract in Iowa. At first he could not say enough in praise of 
the country. Joe was a great scholar; he could write like a school- 
master, an' cipher as fast as he could make the figures; but my wife 
had to read the letters an' answer for me. All at once we got no more 
letters for two or three years, and then come one with just a few lines, 
an' it wound up : ' I've writ so often an' got no answer, I'm discour- 
aged, but I'll try once more. Come an' see old Joe before he 
dies !' 

" Nothin' could a' stopped me after that. I fixed up every thing 
snug about home, an' got Ben, my youngest brother, to stay while I 
was gone, an' run down the Tennessee an' up the Mississip to St. 
Louis. Then I conceited I might need all my money, so I took a job 
on another boat to Nauvoo, where I landed all right, but soon found 
I'd run right into the trouble. 

" It was the year after the Mormon prophet was killed, an' the 
whole country was up a boomin'. I only knowed Joe lived back in 
the country somewhere on the other side, an' when I asked about roads 
they looked at me like I was a pirate. I had to give account of my- 
self half a dozen times 'fore I got out of town, an' then like enough 
when I'd step oif I'd overhear some feller say, ' D — n him, he's one of 
'em, and a spy at that.' Over the river it was jist as bad. Every 
body was afraid of every body else they didn't know. If I went nigh 
a house when the men was out, liker'n not the woman 'd bolt the door 
an' set a dog on me, or run out toward the fields and holler for the 
men. Every body carried a gun, or a club, or a knife, an' I never seed 
so many big an' savage dogs — one or two at every house ; an' they 
looked jist as snappy an' suspicious as the people, an' watched round 
close an' stuck by the women whenever a stranger come along. One 
man I asked a civil question about the road, an' he only grinned an' 
said, ^Your safest road's back towards Nauvoo; they hang horse 
thieves over here.' An' that night where I stopped they stood with 
the door open about an inch, an' made me answer a hundred questions 
'fore they'd let me in. Lord, such a catekismcn I was put through! — 
an' didn't half want to let me in then. It was jist the Cherokee coun- 



A WESTERN CHAR AC TEH. 



S5 



try over agin, an' they might as well a been at war for any comfort 
they took. 

"But next day I found Joe's, and it was the poorest, meanest house 
on the Tract. I walked in, an' what do you think I seed? Thar was 
my dear Joe sittin' all bent up, an' poor an' thin, an' lookin', though 
not over forty, like a man o' sixty. He'd rastled with ager an' rooni- 
atiz time about till nothin' w^as left for any sickness to tack on to, an' 
all the while that Irish wife o' his tormentin' him to death. When I 
saw him I never said a word — I couldn't — but I jist took him in my 
arras, an' for the first time in all my troubles I broke down an' cried ! 
It done Joe no end o' good to see me, but it wa'nt for long. She soon 
spilt our comfort. She was a spitfire when he married her, an' you un- 
derstand age an' bad luck hadn't improved her any — what with bein' 
out among such rough people, losin' her children, an' livin' in a cabin 
with a sick man, an' mighty little to go on, for they was poor as the 
low-wines o' pond-water." 

Only the western traveler who has been compelled to suck up moi^- 
ure from a prairie slough, or lie down and drink out of a wagon track, 
can appreciate the force of this simile. It is scarcely possible to con- 
ceive of a more unsatisfactory drink. 

" She could swear like an ox-driver, an' when 
she took a tantrum every thing was ammunition 
that come to her hand — the poker or an old skil- 
let-handle, it was all one to her. But I stood 
her off, and was gettin' Joe cheered up right 
smart, w^hen one mornin' I was everlastingly 
took back by seein' a crowd of men with guns 
comin' up to the gate. 'What does them men 
want?' sez I. 'You, like enough,' sez she, snap- 
pin'-turtle style. An', sure enough, it was me. 
They snatched me right out of the house, with- 
out a word o' why, an' I thought my time had 
come. They was all sorts o' talk about an aw- 
ful murder, an' two or three o' the lot Avas hot 
to hang me up. But the captain said, ' No ; ev- 
ery fellar should have a fair trial — Mormon or old settler, it was all 
the same.' They took me down to a camp in the Moods, where they 
was more'n a hundred men, some comin' and goin' all the time, an' 
nearly all drinkin', and the drunker they got the more dangered I 
felt. One chap stuck his face nearly agin mine, an' sez he, 'Didn't 
vou help kill Miller and Liecy?' 'No,' sez I. 'Didn't you come 




MRS. JOE'S " TANTRUMS. 



36 WESTERN WILDS. 

sneakin' along the brush road from Nauvoo t'other day, then ?' says he. 
' No/ sez I, and was goin' on to explain, when he yells out, ' You're 
a d — d lying Mormon, an' I've a mind to shoot the guts out o' you,' 
'an the captain stopped him. I noticed the captain didn't touch the 
whisky, an' that hoped me a good deal. 

" They took me an' five others to a big house, an' kept us all day an' 
night, an' then I heard what it was all about. An' no wonder the peo- 
ple Avas excited. It sheered me jist to hear it. It was at the only 
house I'd stopped at on the way where the folks was easy an' civil like. 
They was a Dutchman named Miller and his son-in-law Liecy lived 
there; an' they was jist from some old civil country place in Penn- 
sylvany, or some'rs back there, where nobody's afraid or locks their 
doors at night ; an' these men had come on the Tract to buy land. It 
was talked round that the old man had five thousand dollars in a trunk, 
an' a job was put up by some fellers in Nauvoo. They spied 'round a 
day or two, an' one night three men busted in the door an' fell to 
shootin' an' cuttin' every thing they come to. The whole house was 
dashed with blood. The old man fit like a tiger. He was a Dunkard 
preacher, an' as stout as an ox, an' I mind well it was told 'round for a 
fact that he nearly kilk^d one o' the men jist with his naked fists; an' 
when they run a long butcher-knife into his breast, he was so big it 
didn't go half way tlirough, an' he whipped 'em oif an' fell dead in the 
yard! What with the old man's fightin', and the women scrcamin', 
an' the dogs a barkin', the fellers Avas skeered off an' never got a cent 
o' the money. Then a neighbor galloped to Montrose, a town nigh 
there, an' raised the yell, an' in a little while the Hawkeyes, as they 
called theirselves, was out, an' that day they sarched every corner in 
the county. It was the rougliest time for strangers you ever read of. 
If you ever seed a lot o' cattle bellerin' 'round where one had been 
shot, you've an idee. 

" They was some that even proposed to hang all of us to be sure an 
catch the right one ; an' what made it worse we was as much skeered 
of each other as we was of the Hawkeyes. But they was one man 
named Bird in our lot wlio cheered us up a good deal ; an' pretty soon 
they got on the right trail, an' it led straight to Nauvoo ; but the ]\Ior- 
mons wouldn't give the fellers up. Then the sheriff took a wliole boat 
load of men to Nauvoo, an' they had a big meetin', an' threatened 
war, but finally he got the men he had writs for, an' got 'em in jail; 
but the sheriff had his doubts, an' set up a game on 'em. They was 
two brothers named Hodges, an' he took four men of about their 
build, an' set 'em altogether, an' had Liecy, who lived some daj^s, 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 37 

carried in to look at 'era. The Hawkeyes had us along, for they was 
bound to catch somebody ; an' it was the solemuest time I ever seed. 
The two Hodges was as cool as cowcumbers, but the other four men 
was skeered nearly to death. Liecy took a long look, an' then 
pinted his finger at the Hodges, an' says he : ' There's the man that 
shot mo, an' there's the man that knifed me ! ' 

"And that settled their hash. So we was all turned loose, an' Bird 
an' me made tracks for Joe's. When we got nigh the house, we heard 
an awful racket, an' run in, an' she had Joe down beatin' him with 
his own crutch. They'd had another row, an' she'd sort o' got the 
best of it. I snatched the weepin' outen her hand ; then she swore at 
us, an' lit out on the road with a partin' blessin', an' that's the last 
we ever seed o"' her." 

"Bolted, did she?" 

" Rather that way, stranger. But what do you think that woman 
done? Went straight to Montrose, an' swore to my havin' bogus 
money, an' the very next day they put me in jail — socked me right in 
with them two Hodges — an' I never felt so mean an' streaked in all 
my life. I had no Icarnin' 'cept to read a little, an' that was the first 
I ever felt bad about it. One of the sheriif' s men, Hawkins Tayh)r, 
was real kind, an' got me some things an' a lot o' copies set. I put 
my whole head to it, an' in jest three weeks, sir, I wrote a nice letter 
to the old woman — didn't tell her where I boarded, though — an' then 
I felt easier. If it hadn't been for that, I'd 'agone crazy, shut up so 
with them Hodges. I've seen 'em more'n once since, in my sleep. 
They swore an' sung an' joked an' held up pretty stiff— they had an 
idee their friends in Nauvoo would take 'em out — but bimeby their 
brother there was found one morning with his throat cut, jist after he'd 
seen the head Mormons an' raised a row with 'em about givin' up these 
two ; an' then they sort o' lost hope. It was no go. Iowa was up then, 
an' the Mormons might as well a'tried to take 'em from Gineral Jack- 
son's army. I was turned loose finally, the day before they was hung. 

"They was people come a hundred miles to see it, an' camped out in 
wagons. They had so little fun on the Tract, it was a great treat 
to see somebody hung. Joe an' me was there, an' that's the first an' 
last sight of that kind I ever took. I've seen plenty killed, but not 
that way. We sold Joe's place, an' got him home, an' he picked up 
mightily in old Tennessee. For an East Tennessee man no other 
place is as good as the mountains. Only place I've seed to compare 
vith it was in Californy." 

"What! Have you been to California, too?" 



38 WESTERN WILDS. 

" Took a little trip out there." 

" Little trip ! It is considered a pretty big one. Did you go for gold ? " 

" Sonie'at, but more on account o' the boys." 

" Your brothers again?" 

" No, my own boys. You might say I went to keep them from 
goin', for I suspicioned it was all foolishness, from the start. I reckon 
you don't remember the big excitement. No? Well, it swept all 
Tennessee like a fire in prairie grass. I first heard it one day at Man- 
chester, when the Whigs had a pole-raisin' along o' the election o' old 
Zach Taylor, an' a man jist from Noo York spoke, an' said old Zach 
had conquered for us a country with more gold in it than any nation 
on earth had. Pretty soon the news come thick. They said men just 
dug gold out o' the rocks — thousands in a day. You ought to 
heard the stories that was told for solemn facts. One man said a 
feller dug out one lump worth eight hundred thousand dollars, an' 
as he set on it, a feller come by with a plate o' pork an' beans, an' he 
oifered him fifty thousand for it, an' the feller stood him off for sev- 
enty-five thousand. It was in the Nashville paper, an' so every 
body in our parts believed it. 

"Then every loose-footed man wanted to go. Some jist thro wed 
down their tools an' started ; an' some men that was tied with families, 
actually set down an' cried 'cause they couldn't go. My boys was as 
crazy as the rest. But they was only sixteen an' eighteen, an' I seed 
it wouldn't do. So I said : ' Boys, let me go, an' I'll let you know in 
time,' an' then I bound 'em to take care o' their mother till I sent for 
'em. It would a' been ruination for them young innocent boys to go 
off with such a lot o' men. Jest as soon as the Tennessee was up so 
boats could run over Muscle Shoals, a company of forty of us shipped 
teams an' started, an' landed at Independence, Missouri, the last o' 
March. The whole country was under water, but our fellers was 
crazy to git on ; so they hitched up and started right across the Kaw 
an' into the Delawares' country. But it was all foolishness to start so 
early. Accident after accident we had. The mud was thicker an' 
stickier every day, an' all the creeks was up ; but the men kept up a 
hoopin' an' swearin', an' often had to double teams, an' sometimes we'd 
stick an' pull out two or three wagon tongues 'fore we'd get through. 
I never seed men so crazy to git on. They whipped an' yelled, an' 
wouldn't listen to reason. They was plenty started three weeks after 
us, an' passed us on the road. An' what was strange, the trains that 
laid by an' kept Sunday, got to Californy first. You wouldn't believe 
it, but I've heard hundreds say the same thing. 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 3j 

" Bimeby we got righted up an' on dryer ground, an' went on after 
killin' two or three hosses an' leavin' one wagon. The trains got 
strung out all along the trail, so we had grass an' game plenty along 
up the Blue River an' over to the Platte. There we struck the Mor- 
mon emigration an' all the Californy trains that went that way. Tlie 
whole country was et out, an' the Injins threatened, an' the men got 
to quarrelin'. I tell you it takes a mighty good set o' men to travel 
together three thousand miles an' not fuss. Sometimes it was Whig 
and Democrat, an' then it was Tennessee agin Geawgey. I tell you 
when men are tired an' dirty they'll quarrel about any thing. About 
half a dozen swore Californy was all humbug, an' turned back, an' at 
Laramie Forks the company split into two. At South Pass our half 
split agin, an' ten of us went oif with a company to go the new route, 
south of the Salt Lake. We got to the Mormon City all beat out, an' 
more'n half a mind not to go a mile further. Plenty got there in 
worse humor than us. Some had split up till it Avas each man for him- 
self, an' some actually divided wagons, an' made two carts out o' one, 
or finished the trip on hosses. We took a rest, an' traded every thing 
with the Mormons, givin' two of our hosses for one fresh one, an' 
finally got off in pretty good shape agin. 

" But all we'd seed was nothin' to the country from there on. Rocks 
an' mountains an' sand; an' sand, an' rocks an' mountains — miles on 
miles of it. Sometimes the Avater was white as soapsuds with alkali, 
an' sometimes as red as brick-dust, not one time in five sweet an' 
clean. I reckon I swore a thousand times* if I ever got home agin 
nothin' stronger 'n cold water should pass my lips. I've drove all clay 
'thout seein' a spear o' green, or a speck of any thing but sand; an' if 
we got grass once a day, we was in luck. Every day the men swore 
nothin' could beat this, an' the next day it was always worse. I reckon 
God knows what he made that country for — he haint told any body, 
though. 

"At last we got into a region that was the hind end o' creation — 
seventy miles 'thout a drop o' water or a spear o' grass! Nothin' but 
hot sand an' beds of alkali as white as your shirt. The trains used to 
start in one afternoon an' drive two nights an' a day, an' get to Mater 
the second mornin'. The whole way was lined with boxes an' beds an' 
clothes, an' pieces of wagons, one thing an' another the trains ahead 
had left, an' the last ten miles you might a' stepped from one cai'cass 
to another on the dead hosses an' mules an' oxen. Two o' our men got 
crazy as loons — you can see such strange things on them deserts. My 
head was clear as a bell, an' yet half the time I could see off to cue 



40 



WESTERN WILDS. 



side of us a train jest like oiir'n, only the men an' bosses ten times as 
l)i<r, an' jist as lilce as not they'd raise in the air an' move off upside 
down. It was sort o' skcery, an' no mistake. AVe left four or five 
(lead hosses on that tract, but when we got to Carson River, it was too 
l^rctty a sight to tell about. There was sweet, clean water an' grass an' 
trees an' trains strung along for miles a restin' their stock. Some of 
our men run right into the water an' swallowed an' swallowed till they 
staggered like drunk men. All the rest of the way was in the mount- 
aius, but grass 

^r.rcf® /J .=.» ^^^ water was 

})lenty, an' the 
trees — how I did 
admire to see 'em! 
Hundreds o' miles 
I hadn't seen a 
>,>^ bush as thick as 
my thumb. 

"Well, we was 
into Californy at 
last, an' it looked 
like heaven to me. 
There was big 
trees, an' the wind 
blowin' soft away 
up in their tops ; 
an' the pretty clear 
|~|\A streams down the 
^ mountain side an' 
sl?c** through the jjulcli- 
es made music all 
day. In so m e 
])la('es the air Avas 
jist sweet that 
blowed out o' the 
pine woods, an' 
Aveek after week the sky was so blue, an' the air so soft, it seemed 
like a man could stand any thing. An' no matter how hard 
you worked in the day, or how hot it was, it was always so 
cool an' nice at night; you could sleep anywheres — on the ground 
or on a pile o' limbs, in the house or out o' doors, an' never catch 
cold. 




" MADE MUSIC ALL DAY. 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 41 

"But if the country was like heaven, the folks was like the other 
place, I reckon. Such sights — such (loins'! I'd never 'a believed 
men would carry on so. I went to minin' in the Amador, an' first 
they wasn't a woman in a hundred miles. And when one did come in 
one day on a wagon, the men all run to look at her as if she was a 
show. Better she'd a' stayed away, an' twenty more like her that 
come in when the diggins begun to pan out rich. I believe every 
woman was the cause o' fifty fights an' one or two deaths. It made 
me mad to see men fight about 'em, when they knowed jest w'hat they 
was — men that had mothers an' sisters back in the States, an' some on 
'em sweethearts an' wives. They was mostly Mexican women, an' 
some Chilaynos an' South Spainers; an' somehow it was a sort o' com- 
fort to me that there was hardly ever an American woman among the 
lot. 

" Bimebv these diggins sort o' worked out, an' I went down on 
Tuoljinuu", an' then mined about Angells an' Murphy's Camp, an' 
finally to Sonora. Then all sorts o' new ways o' minin' come in, but 
thev took capital, an' I let 'em alone. Men was all the time runnin' 
about from camp to camp — so many new excitements — no matter how 
rich the ground where we was, some feller would come in with a big 
story about a new gulch, an' away they'd go. I've seen a thousand 
men at work along one creek, an' a big excitement break out, an' before 
night they wouldn't be twenty left. Sometimes a man would get title 
to big ground, an' hold it at a thousand dollars, an' when the rush 
come vou could buy him out with two mules an' a pair o' blankets. 
Many an' many a time I've seen a man go oif that way with a little 
money an' never be seen alive. Like enough his body was found away 
down the river, an' like enough it was never found. It got so they 
was men there that would cut a throat for ten dollars. It wasn't all 
one way, though. More'n once the robbers would tackle some gritty 
man tluit was handy with his 'barkers,' an' he'd get away with two or 
three of 'em. Every body carried the irons with him, ready to pop at 
a minute's notice, an' if a man traveled alone, he took his life in his 
hand. 

" It wa'nt long though till we got some kind o' government. Cali- 
forny was made a State the year after I got there, but that didn't sig- 
nify in the mountains; an' at Angell's Camp we chipped in together 
and hired regvdar guards to look after every suspicious man. The 
worst thing was to get down from the mines to Frisco; for if it Avas 
known that a man was a goin' to leave, it w^as 'sposed he'd made his 
pile, an' had it with him. At last I made a little raise— that was in 



42 WESTERN WILDS. 

the spring of '52 — an' concluded to conic home. INIe an' my partner 
jest laid down our tools one niglit right where we worked, an' packed 
up, an' -when the camp was asleep lit out over tlie hills 'thout sayin' a 
word to any human bein.' Got home 'round by Panama all right, an' 
found every thing chipper, an' when I figured up I was just three 
hundred a head on the three year's trip. Better stayed at home for 
(/old — but it saved the boys." 

" Then you stayed at home and took comfort for the rest of your 
life, I suppose." 

There was dead silence. The " old woman " rose and retired to the 
other cabin ; the youths had long before ascended the ladder which led 
to their bed in the garret, and my host seemed to have finished. But 
it was evident there was sometliing more, and it was the most painful 
part of his story. The old wall-sweep clock struck nine in a loud, 
aggressive tone, which roused the old man, and he resumed in a dif- 
ferent manner — a mingling of regret and indignation: 

" It was a bad thing, a mighty bad thing, for old Tennessee, when the 
Whig party died. I felt in my bones no good could come of it. But 
I didn't think it would touch me so close as it did. I knowed trouble 
would come, but couldn't sec jist how. You know all about that. Our 
folks was all agin the war from the start. I was down at INIanchcster 
the day they hauled down the stars an' stripes, an' sez I, ' ]\Icn, you've 
bit off more'n you can chaw ;' an' they laughed at me. But I knowed 
them Northern men — seed 'em in Californy. Slow, mighty slow, to 
start a fight, but awful to hold on. 

"But I sha'n't dwell on this. In less'n three months, sir, both my 
boys was in it. I held up a year or more ; then come both armies 
swcepin' South, an' what our folks left the Federals took. I thought 
to make a crop yet, an' fixed up a good deal ; then come both armies 
back north'rd agin an' SAvep' me clean. But my old woman an' the 
girls turned out an' helped, an' in '63 we 'scaped a long time. Then 
they come South agin, an' we give it up. I really believed they'd 
drive each other back an' for'rd there for years. Next year I got up 
one mornin', an' there was a letter stuck under the door by some gcw- 
rillers, an' it said both my boys was bad shot, an' in the hospital at 
Atlanta. I felt death in my bosom right then. But I sha'n't dwell on 
this. An hour after sundown I was off on the only boss we had left, 
an' by daylight I was in the sand-hills along the Tennessee. The 
country was full o' soldiers, but I got round all of 'em an' to Atlanta. 
It was no good — no good. Men was dyin' all round, an' families broke 
up an' scattered, an' women an' children naked an' starvin'! What 



A WESTERN CHARACTER. 43 

was my troubles to them ? The boys was fur gone, an' no medicines 
an' nothin' to help 'em could be got It was a might o' comfort, 
though, to see 'em 'fore they died, an' take back some keepsakes to 
their mother. Oh, stranger, that war was a powerful sight o' trouble 
to us all ! 

"They was buried, along with hundreds of others, an' I was gettin' 
ready to start back, when up steps a chap, an' sez he, ' Old man, we 
want you — can't spare a man now that can shoot.' An' I jist had a 
chance to send word home, an' then took the place my oldest boy had ; 
an' nigh a year after, when that regiment give in to old Sherman, I 
was one of the thirty-six — all that was left of a big regiment. 

« * * * J found my folks at a neighbors, but on my place they 
wasn't a stick nor a rail. I hadn't the heart to try it there agin. We 
got word that my wife's mother had died in the Cherokee Nation, an' 
left a good claim ; so I turned over the Tennessee land to my son-in- 
law (he married my only girl), an' had him take the other grand-chil- 
dren, too, an' he outfitted us for the Nation. 

" My Avife j)roved up on her Cherokee blood, an' I was let in under 
their law as bein' married to a Cherokee that had head-rights, an' we 
took her mother's place. Nice fixed up, too, it was, on Grand River, 
jist across from Fort Gibson, an' there my grandsons that come with 
us made two crops, an' then all at once the troubles about the Chero- 
kees started uj) again. I turned cold 'round the heart when I heard 
it — I did Avant rest so bad. Then I looked back only forty years, to 
the time when all the country, from Tennessee here, was wild, an' 
President, Congress, an' all said if the Cherokees would only come out 
here they wouldn't be bothered for ages an' ages, an' now this country's 
older 'n Tennessee was then. Neither did any man own his land in 
theCherokee Nation; it was common, an' we owned jist the improve- 
ments. So I took a good long look at the matter, an' sez I, ' Once 
more, Natie, dear (that's my wife), we've got to go once more; this is 
too good a country for Injins to keep if white men want it, an' you can 
swear they will long 'fore we die.' 

" So I traded that claim for this piece up here, an' my grandsons 
stuck, an' I guess we'll get along. What I dread more'n any thing is 
another war." 

" Why, what reason have you to dread it ?" 

" ' Burnt child,' you know. All my life I've been a man of peace, 
an' yet every fuss that come up hurt me. Three times I've been broke 
up an' ruined by wars an' troubles I had no hand in briugin' on. DonH 
you think they'll keep peace while I live?" 



44 WESTERN WILDS. 

There was for a brief moment a new look in his eye — the eager, 
pleading look of a hunted animal. I reassured him, and his face re- 
sumed its usual air of placid humor and homely philosophy. 

" The story's about done. Hope I hav'nt bored you. It's a sorter 
queer world, aint it? Sometimes I think it jist icas to be so, an' no 
help, an' sometimes I conceit I ought to done better; but anyhow, all I 
git outen the whole of my experience is that a man must keep pcggin' 
away. But you're noddin'. Better you go to sleep early." And di- 
recting me to the ladder, this uncomplaining heir of adverse fortune 
sought his bed in the other cabin. 

Here was a man who had traveled over half the continent, been 
former, boatman, miner, soldier, and Indian trader, and never imagined 
that he had done more than his duty. Perhaps there is no moral to 
be extracted from his story; yet it somehow seems to me one on which 
discontented respectability, cushioned in an easy chair, might profita- 
bly ponder. 



CHAPTER III. 



THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 

It was an era of change and fierce excitement. Omaha was in her 
specuhitive period. Daily hundreds of adventurous fortune-seekers set 
out for the mountains, and daily the refluent tide landed half as many 
of the returning — a very few fortunate beyond their hopes, many about 
as well off as when they started, and quite as many utterly bankrupt. 
Such a country could not but develop strange characters ; a man either 
failed, lost hope, and sank into a " floater," or developed an amazing 
capacity for lighting on his feet at every fall. 

There, for instance, was my friend Will Wylie, who had seen the el- 
ephant in its entirety, from trunk to tail. He went out in 1862, and 
"struck it rich" on his first vent- _^ 

ure in the mines of Montana; 
started with teams and wagons to 
California, and on the way was 
robbed of every ounce of his 
"dust" by the then swarming 
" road agents." They kindly left 
him his stock, with which he got 
through to California, and thence 
made a highly successful trip to 
Arizona. There he turned his 
means into a freighting company, 
and beguiled the lonesome hours 
of his long drives over mountains and deserts by calculating his certain 
wealth and early return to the States. When near Fort Whipple, and 
not three hours ride from a well-manned United States post, the 
Apaches attacked his traiu, stampeded all his stock but the mule he 
rode, and burnt all his property they could not carry off. By the light 
of his blazing wagons he fled, with an arrow sticking in his cheek ; his 
frightened animal ran till it dropped dead, but fortunately not till it 
had carried him into the quadrangle of the fort. He was picked up in- 
sensible, and in six weeks was out again with the loss of one eye. Re- 
turning to Montana, he joined the Vigilantes, and had the pleasure 

(45) 




HIS LAST CHANCE. 



4G WESTERN WILDS. 

of presiding at a " neck-tic sociable " where two of the men who had 
robbed him were hanged. Some more " dust" was obtained out of the 
old claim in which he still held an interest, and in 1867 he came down 
on the Union Pacific as a trader. He had what he called a " big biz " 
at each successive terminus town, and was now in Omaha to buy a 
" little bill " of ten thousand dollars' worth of provisions, tobacco and 
"bitters" for the new metropolis beyond Cheyenne. Three years after 
I found him away up in the mountains of Utah, where he had put all 
his available means in a new and half-developed mine, and was sinking 
on the vein with tireless energy, in the daily hope of striking a bonanza. 
These hopeful ones rarely make the most money, but without them 
when would the Great West ever have been developed ? 

There, too, was Jim Garraway (who, however, will never recognize 
himself by this name), born and reared a gambler — never knew much 
else from boyhood. His father, companions, friends, all were gam- 
blers ; as a baby he played with faro checks, and learned English in 
the atmosphere of pool rooms. At twenty gaming was his infatu- 
ation. Now he had thoroughly reformed, never touched a card, and 
was in a responsible position in Wells, Fargo & Co.'s employ. Two 
years after he surprised me by a call at my office in Corinne, Utah. 
He was freighting thence to Montana, the owner of mules and wagons 
worth five thousand dollars. One evening, when idle time hung heavy 
on his hands, he strayed into one of our "sporting rooms." The 
smooth-spoken proprietor who so styled it, might have added, " What 
is sport to us is death to you," for Jim's old inflituation returned. He 
staked a pile of " chips" and won ; then made and lost, and made and 
lost alternately, selling his stock when " broke," and scarcely ate or 
slept till the tail of his last mule was "coppered on the jack." 

Repentant and returning Mormons were numerous, but seldom 
noisy. One I met who had been back and forth, in and out of the 
Church, three times. Now he declared with profane emphasis that 
this was the last time ; he had seen enough. One little party of a 
hundred recusant Saints, of all ages from six months to seventy years, 
had made the journey in primitive style with slow and patient ox- 
teams, all the adults walking. They had left Salt Lake Valley as 
soon as the cailons were clear of snow, and been three months on the 
road. Their condition was wretched; for in those days, under the 
iron-clad laws of Utah, no apostate ever got out of the Territory 
with any thing worth leaving. The Mormon priesthood taught the 
apostolic doctrine of " laying on of hands," and, the dissenters added, 
what they laid hands on they generally got away with. These people 



THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 



47 




' liAYING ON OF HANDS. 



were destined to a "Josephite" settlement in Iowa, and at Council 
Bluffs they met three hundred new converts on their way to Utah, in 
charge of a bishop and platoon of elders. But there was very little 
intercourse between the two. The latter were fresh, hopeful, cheery, 
singing the "songs of Zion," and rejoicing in their speedy escape from 
"Babylon;" the recusants sad, weary, half mad and wholly heart- 
sick. Quick to curse Brigham, they were yet but half cured of their 
folly, and prepared to 
surrender mind an d 
conscience to another 
phase of the same delu- 
sion. The elders watch- 
ed their new recruits 
without appearing to do 
so, and at sight of the 
others were full of 
warnings and allusions 
to Demas and those who 
kept not the faith, and 
were given over to be damned. In those days most of the dissenting 
Saints left Utah ; now they remain, and with the skeptical young Mor- 
mons are building up a party which is very troublesome to Brigham. 

Council Bluffs was once almost a Mormon town, and many places 
in the vicinity were settled entirely by that sect. Apostates by thou- 
sands are scattered through Iowa, in faith "half Mormon and half 
nothing," but in practice good and industrious citizens. Mormonism 
does not make a man a fanatic, unless he goes where the Church has 
the majority and rules the country. Florence, six miles above Omaha, 
with as pretty a site as I saw in Nebraska, was the original winter 
quarters of the main body in their great exodus ; and according to the 
sanguine belief of the Gentiles who succeeded them, was to have been 
the great city instead of Omaha. It had the start, and no man can 
say why it should not have held it. But there is a mysterious law 
which governs the location of great cities, and Florence is now only 
a pretty suburb to the metropolis of Nebraska. 

The last of July, 1868, 1 took the evening train for Laramie, then the 
terminus of the Union Pacific Railroad. For a hundred and fifty miles 
from Omaha the Platte Valley, which the road follows, is one of the rich- 
est in the world. Then a change begins, and the country is higher, 
dryer, and more barren with every hour's travel toward the mountains. 
It is all the way up-hill. Omaha is 912 feet above sea-level; Cheyenne 



48 ' WESTERN WILDS. 

5,600; and through all that long incline of 525 miles, the road-bed 
maintains a nearly uniform up-grade of ten feet to the mile. At a few 
places it sinks to a level, and for two short stages there is a down 
grade westward: from the Omaha level to the Platte Valley, and from 
the " divide " down to Crow Creek, on which Cheyenne is situated. 
Nature evidently designed this valley for a railroad route. The Indian 
had used it from time immemorial; the voyageur and trapper trailed 
it for a hundred years before California was known in the East ; then 
the gold-huuters, Oregon settlers and Mormons turned the trail into a 
broad wagon road, and lastly came the railroad, obedient to the same 
necessities for water and a smooth route. West of Loup Fork we 
found the soil a little more sandy, and the grass shorter, with a dry and 
withered look ; and this change went on till at last we saw the heavy 
verdure of the Missouri Valley no more, and were introduced to the 
bunched and seeded grasses of the high plains and Rocky Mountains. 
North Platte, M'here we took breakfast, was once a roaring terminus 
"cit}-;" now a way station, with hotel and saloon attachment. Jules- 
burg, 377 miles out, had been a busy city of 5,000 inhabitants; now 
it was a wilderness of blackened chimneys and falling adobe walls, the 
debris of a dead metropolis. In the old days of the overland stage, one 
Julia, a Cherokee exile, kept the station hotel there ; and in the cheer- 
ful frankness of "Western life the place was known as "Dirty Jule's 
Ranche." Thence " Jule's," and finally Julesburg. Similarly " Rob- 
ber's Roost" has been softened to Roosaville, and "Black Bills" to 
Blackville. For three hundred miles we follow the course of the 
Platte, a broad but dirty and uninviting stream, differing only from 
a slough in having a swift current. Often a mile wide, but with no 
more water than would fill an average canal, three inches of fluid run- 
ning on top of several feet, of moving quicksand; too thin to walk 
on, too thick to drink, too shallow for navigation, too deep for safe 
fording, too yellow to wash in, and too pale to paint with, it is the 
most disappointing and useless river in America. Nevertheless, many 
attempts have been made to navigate it, all ending in disaster. Nota- 
ble among these was the venture of a party of hunters from New 
England, who started from Laramie in the spring of 1843 to run two 
flats loaded with furs to St. Louis. After two months arduous toil, 
oilen unloading and dragging their boats over sand-bars, they at last 
abandoned them, cached the property, and walked to Council Bluffs, 
where they arrived in July, nearly dead from fatigue and starvation. 

Three hundred miles out, and the plains in all their vastness are 
around us. The land rises into long ridges, stretching away swell on 



THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 



49 



swell as far as the eye can reach, as if the heaving ocean had suddenly 
become firm fixed earth ; and immense pampas spread away alternating 
flint and gravel with strips of wiry, curly grass, or at rare intervals 
a protected growth of stunted shrubs. Only the lowest vales contain 
any cultivable land, and that, to be productive, requires irrigation ; the 
bright flowers of the Missouri Valley are seen no more, the lark-spur 
alone retaining its hues; the wild sunflower and yellow saffron become 
dust-hued and dwarfish, while milk-weed and resin-weed sustain a 
sort of dying life, and cling with sickly hold to the harsh and forbid- 




THE GOOD OLD TI3IE." 



ding soil. Now appear depressed basins, with saline matter dried 
upon the soil, and long flats white with alkali, as if they had been 
sowed with lime. This is the "Great American Desert" of early 
geographers, a region practically worthless to the agriculturist, though 
half its surface is of some value for grazing. Antelope and prairie dog 
show themselves in considerable numbers, but it is too late for the 
buifalo; the main line of their northward migration passed two months 
before, nor are they to be seen as in the good old time the hunters tell 
about. I shall not inflict upon the reader the standard description of 
these animals, much less the account of dog, owl and rattlesnake as a 
4 



50 WESTERN WILDS. 

happy family in one burrow; for this is meant to be a veracious chron- 
icle, anil though I have since spent many hours in "dog-towns," I do 
not know such association to be a fact. 

Passinjj; the last and worst stage of the barren plains, we run down 
into the little oasis on Crow Creek, and to the "Magic City" of Chey- 
enne. Its rapid rise and mad career had given it a national fame. On 
the 3d of July, 1867, the first house was erected; on the 1st of No- 
vember there was a })opulation of 7,000, with a city government, a 
municipal debt, and three daily papers. When spring dissolved the 
snow banks and ice-packs from Sherman summit, the railroad pushed 
on ; Laramie became the metropolis, and Cheyenne sank to a quiet 
town of perhaps 1,200 people. Its further decay was arrested by the 
development of sheep-ranching, and its location as the junction of the 
Denver Pacific ; and now as the capital of Wyoming and most conven- 
ient outfitting point for the Black Hills, it looks forward to another 
era of prosperity. 

While I rested a few days at Cheyenne, the railroad was rapidly 
pushing westward, and soon another "metropolis" Avas laid off be- 
yond Laramie. From Cheyenne the road bed is nearly level to 
Hazard Station, officially pronounced the eastern base of the Rocky 
Mountains ; and thence the grade rises eighty feet per mile to Sher- 
man, 8,342 feet above sea-level, and highest point on the Union 
Pacific. Beyond that we have the magnificent scenery of Granite 
Canon and Virginia Dale, the last now seeming peaceful as an Ar- 
cadian dell, but with as bloody a history as any spot in the Rocky 
Mountains. In the olden time it was the favorite abode of land 
pirates, and every ravine in the vicinity was the scene of a murder. 
Thence the road makes a sharp bend to the north, and we run rapidly 
downward for forty miles to the new city of Laramie, already past 
its greatness, and many of its inhabitants leaving for the next "me- 
tropolis." Laramie Plains, though 7,000 feet above sea-level, abound 
in rich pastures; but westward the grassy slopes yield rapidly to bar- 
renness, and at Medicine Bow we enter fairly on the three-hundred- 
raile desert. In the worst part of this waste we found Benton, the 
great terminus town, six hundred and ninety-eight miles from Omaha. 
Far as eye could see around the town, there was not a green tree, 
shrub, or spear of grass. The red hills, scorched and bare as if 
blasted by the lightnings of an angry God, bounded the white basin 
on the north and east, while to the south and west spread the gray 
desert till it wa:? interrupted by another range of red and yellow liiils. 
The whole basin looked as if it might originally have been filled with 



THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 51 

lye and sand, then dried to the consistency of hard soap, with glisten- 
ing surface, tormenting alike to eye and sense. 

Yet here had sprung up in two weeks — as if by the touch of Alad- 
din's Lamp — a city of three thousand people ; there were regular 
squares arranged into five wards, a city government of mayor and 
aldermen; a daily paper, and a volume of municipal ordinances. It 
was the end of the freight and passenger, and beginning of the con- 
struction division; twice every day immense trains arrived and de- 
parted, and stages left for Utah, Montana and Idaho. All the goods 
formerly hauled across the plains came here by rail, and were reship- 
ped, and for ten hours daily the streets tvere thronged with motley 
crowds of railroad men, Mexicans and Indians, gamblers, " cappers," 
and saloon-keepers, merchants, miners, and mule-whackers. The 
streets were eight inches deep in white dust as I entered the city of 
canvas tents and pole-houses ; the suburbs appeared as banks of dirty 
white lime, and a new arrival with black clothes looked like nothing 
so much as a cockroach struggling through a flour ba,rrel. 



"ONLY A MEMORY. 



Benton is only a memory now. A section house by the road-side, a 
few piles of adobes, tin cans and other debris mark the site where sales 
to the amount of millions were made in two months. The genesis and 
evolution of these evanescent railroad cities was from the overland 
trade. Two hundred thousand people in Colorado, Utah, Montana and 
Idaho had to be supplied from the States, and every ounce of freight 
sent them was formerly hauled from six to sixteen hundred miles. This 
trade successively built up Independence, Westport, Kansas City, Atch- 
ison, Leavenworth and Omaha ; but as soon as the Union Pacific was 
started it took that route. Hence those "roaring towns" at the suc- 
cessive termini, which sprang up like Jonah's gourd, and in most cases 
withered away as suddenly when the road passed on. First on the list 
was Columbus, Nebraska, and then Fort Kearney, where George 
Francis Train confidently located the geographical center of the United 
States, and future capital, and invested his money and his hopes. 
Kearney is now a prosperous country village and Train a harmless 
lunatic. North Platte suddenly rose from a bare sand bank to a city 
of 4,000 people, with banks, insurance offices and city government, all 



52 WESTERN WILDS. 

aristocracy and common people, old settlers and first families. Three 
months after it consisted, in the sarcastic language of the Julesburgers, 
of a hotel, two saloons, a bakery, section-house and another saloon. 
Then came Julesburg, the wickedest city on the list. For sixty-three 
days there was a homicide every day ; ten dance houses ran all night, 
and thirty saloons paid license to the evanescent corporation. 

The rise culminated at Cheyenne; thenceforward Laramie, Benton, 
Green River City and Bryan grew successively smaller, and Bear 
River City closed the chapter with a carnival of crime ending in a 
pitched battle between citizens and roughs, in which twelve men were 
killed and twenty wounded. But the history Avould be incomplete 
without the annals of Wahsatch, built upon the summit of Wasatch 
Mountains, 7,000 feet above the sea, in ten days of January, 1869, 
while the mercury ranged from zero to ten degrees below. Despite 
the intense cold, the sound of hammer and saw was heard day and 
night, and restaurants were fitted up in such haste that meals were 
served while the carpenters w'cre putting on the second thickness of 
weatherboard ing. I ate my first breakfast there in one where the mer- 
cury stood at five degrees below zero! A drop of the hottest coffee 
spilled upon the cloth froze in a minute, while gravy and butter solid- 
ified in spite of the swiftest eater. 

It was a '* wicked city." During its lively existence of three 
months it established a graveyard with forty-three occupants, of whom 
not one died of disease. Some were killed by accident ; a few got 
drunk and were frozen; three were hanged, and several killed in a fight 
cr murdered; one "girl" stifled herself with charcoal fumes, and 
another inhaled sweet death from subtle chloroform. 

Transactions in real estate in all these tow^ns were, of course, most 
u.ncertain ; and every thing that looked solid was a sham. Red brick 
fronts, brown stone fronts, and stuccoed walls, were found to have been 
made to order in Chicago, and shipped in (pine) sections. Ready^ 
made houses were finally sent out in lots, boxed, marked and num- 
bered ; half a dozen men could erect a block in a day, and two boys 
with screw-drivers put up a " habitable dwelling" in three hours. A 
very good gray-stone stucco front, w^ith plain sides, twenty by forty 
tent, could be had for three hundred dollars; and if one's business hap- 
pened to desert him, or the town moved on, he only had to take his 
store to pieces, ship it on a platform car to the next city, and set up 
again. There was a pleasing versatility of talent in the population of 
such towns. 

To return to Benton. The Mormon converts were going forward 



THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 63 

in large parties; 4,000 left Europe for Utah in 1868, that being the 
largest emigration of any year since the Church was founded. The 
number of arrivals now scarcely equals that of the apostates. Freight- 
ing to Salt Lake was also active, and teamsters being in demand, I 
took a position as engineer of a six-mule team, at a salary of forty dol- 
lars per month. Our "outfit" numbered ten wagons, sixty-one mules 
and sixteen men, including a night-herder, wagon-boss and four passen- 
gers. The four hundred miles to Salt Lake occupied four weeks, two- 
thirds of the way being through deserts of sand, soda and alkali, where 
we thought ourselves fortunate in finding a patch of bunch-grass once 
every twenty-four hours. The first night we formed corral at Raw- 
lins Springs, and the next in a walled basin on the old stage road, at 
what is called " Dug Springs." In the center of the basin was an alka- 
line lake which, moved by the evening breeze, looked like foaming 
soapsuds; but on its margin was a spring of pure water. Thence we 
moved on to the '' Divide of the Continent," a plateau of sand and rock, 
dotted with alkaline lakes in which "cat-fish with legs," as plainsmen 
style them, are abundant. I afterward saw the same species at Canon 
Bonito, Arizona, where the Navajo boys shot their arrows through 
them to secure me a few specimens. Science classes them as siredons, 
a species of lizards. 

Leaving this unpleasant country by way of Bridgcr's Pass, we were 
soon upon the westward slope, and for three days toiled down Bitter 
Creek — the horror of overland teamsters — where all possible ills of 
western travel are united. At daybreak we rose, stiff with cold, to 
catch the only temperate hour for driving. By nine A. M. the heat 
was most exhausting. The road was worked up into a bed of blinding 
white dust b}' the laborers on the railroad grade, and a gray mist of 
ash and earthy powder hung over the valley, which obscured the sun, 
but did not lessen its heat. At intervals the " Twenty-mile Desert," 
the " Red Sand Desert," and the " White Desert " crossed our way, 
presenting beds of sand and soda, through which the half-choked men 
and animals toiled and struggled, in a dry air and under a scorching 
sky. In vain the yells and curses of the teamsters doubled and re- 
doubled, blasphemies that one might expect to inspire a mule with dia- 
bolical strength ; in vain the fearful " black-snake " curled and popped 
over the animals' backs, sometimes gashing the skin, and sometimes 
raising welts the size of one's finger. For a few rods they would strug- 
gle on, dragging the heavy load through the clogging banks, and then 
stop exhausted, sinking to their knees in the hot and ashy heaps. Then 
two of us would unite our teams and drag through to the next solid 



54 



WESTERN WILDS. 



piece of ground^ where, for a few hundred yards, i\\e wind had removed 
the loose heaps, and left bare the flinty and gravelly subsoil. Thus, 
by most exhausting labor, we aeconipiished ten or twelve miles u day. 
Half an hour or more of temperate coolness then gave us respite till 
soon after sundown, when the cold wind came down, as if in heavy vol- 
umes, from the snowy range, and tropic heat Avas succeeded by a'rct^' 
cold with amazing suddenness. On the 27th of August my mule» 
were exhausted with heat; that night ice formed in our buckets as 
thick as a pane of glass. 

Thence across Green River we found Bridger Plains and the valley 
^ ^^i!«K,.^=- _— _ of Bear River delightful by comparison^ 
^ '* "^^ 1 and at noon of September 4th passed the 

summit of the Wasatch and entered Echo 
Caiion. Two days we traveled down this 
great ravine, enjoying a succession of ro- 
mantic views — sometimes down in the very 
bed of the stream, and sometimes far up 
the rocky sides of the cliff, where the 
" dug-way " wound in and out along the 
projecting " benches." Emerging thence 
into Weber Valley, we came upon the first 
gardens and cultivated fieltls I had seen for 
a thousand miles. The Mormon dwellings 
would have appeared p€K>r and mean in- 
deed in the States, but to one just from the 
ban'cn plains the valley was pretty enough. 
The railroad now nnis down Weber Canon, 
but we followed the old stage and wagon road southward up the Weber 
and over the divide into Parley's Park. 

Thence down the wild gorge known as Parleys Caiion, where every 
turn brings to view a fresh delight in the sublime and beautiful; and 
out upon the '' l)ench," on the evening of September 9th, we saw the 
great valley of Jordan, and the Salt Lake spreading far to the north 
and west. Twenty miles westward the Oquirrh Range glowed in the 
clear air, a shining mass of blue and white. Great Salt I^ke ex- 
tended beyond our sight to the northward, its surface glisten- 
ing in the light of the declining sun, while to our right the 
''City of the Saints" as yet appeared but a white spot on the land- 
scape. To our left the canon of the Jordan seemed to close, giving the 
impression that that stream poured from the hills, while down the cen- 
ter of the valley the river shonfe like a glimmering band of silver. A 







^^^ 



PCLPIT rock: echo caSout, 



THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 



55 



little farther and I marked the great dome of the Tabernacle, and then 
the smaller buildings of Salt Lake City, rise out of the evening mirage, 
Math only the interest of a traveler, and little thinking of the years in 
which that was to be my home, or in what mysterious ways I was to be 
identified with its social and political combats. 




THE GREAT SALT LAKE, UTAH. 



But before I enter on the hackneyed themes of Utah and Mormon- 
ism, allow me, indulgent reader, to relieve the tedium of a merelv per- 
sonal narrative by giving the story of one who sought the Western 
Wilds from more heroic motives than mine. 



CHAPTER IV. 



GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 

We sat, my partner Robert GefFroy and I, upon the rocky slope of 
Griffith Mountain, that looks down upon Georgetown, Colorado. Two 
thousand feet below us the city seemed sunk in a great cleft in the 
earth ; around it rose on all sides precipitous mountains, their summits 
still covered with snow, though the June sun shone Avarm upon them, 
and the little pools fed by rivulets from the snow banks were bordered 

by bright flowers. At our feet 
the brawling brook formed a 
clear pool, the usual resting 
place of those who walked to 
the summit; a little below it 
plunged by a series of musical 
cascades into a granite canon, 
and was lost among the foot 
hills. AVhile our side of the 
mountain was still in shadow, 
beyond the town the line of 
shade and morning sunlight 
crept slowly down the face of 
Republican Mountain. My 
companion gazed long and 
earnestly upon the sublime 
scenery with that gentle melan- 
choly which habitually shaded 
his fine countenance. At length his dark eye, beautiful with the clear 
depth peculiar to the Swiss mountaineer, moistened a little, and he fell 
into one of his rare poetical moods. I had shared with him the vicis- 
situdes of a miner's life, and had found the usually taciturn man of 
some fifty years a most pleasing companion. Never intemperate, as 
were so many of the older miners, never garrulous or l)oastful, there 
were yet times when some undercurrent of intense thought bubbled to 
the surface ; then, in free converse in our cabin, he was the most fas- 
cinating of men. His language, with just enough of foreign accent, 

(56) 




WE SAT UPON THE ROCKY SLOPE OF GRIFFITH 
MOUNTAIN." 



GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 57 

was that of one who had learned it from books rather than men ; his 
musical voice gave utterance to sentences loaded Avith poetic thoughts, 
and his lightest remark Avould have borne the test of severest criticism. 
To me he seemed a man of naturally ardent temperament and high 
aims, but thwarted and long repressed, with mind turned perhaps to 
unhealthful introspection. But to-day he was in an unusual mood ; he 
had just passed through one of his seasons of deep sadness, and, as it 
were, unconsciously, sought relief in friendly confidences. A light re- 
mark from me on the many uncertainties and disappointments of a 
miner's life led us on to a free discussion of the vexed questions of free 
will and destiny. 

"Are Ave," he asked, " indeed the authors of our course ? do we suc- 
ceed by our own endeavors or fail by our own errors ? or is there a 
chain of circumstances running concurrent with our daily lives, and 
ever shaping them to alien issues ?" 

I defended with vehemence my views that we all make or mar our 
own fortunes. He listened calmly, and replied : 

" Hear, then, my story, and learn how often the great movements of 
war and politics crush the humblest lives, and that not his own acts 
merely, but the acts of all his contemporaries, determine one's destiny." 

Thus began a series of confidences, Avhich, continued some evenings 
in our cabin, gave me the incidents of an eventful though humble life. 
* * * * * * * 

" I am, as you know, a native of beautiful Geneva, and my first rec- 
ollections are of grand mountains, mirror-like lakes, and old monu- 
ments. Mine Avas a childhood of rare happiness. My SavIss mother 
united to the earnest vigor of her race that Avondrous insight into the 
nature and feelings of childhood, AAdiich seems a special gift of God to 
the German people. My French father, Avhile he had none of that 
IcAdty or cynic indifference to all religions Avhicli so many of that race 
affect, AA^as yet happily free from superstition, jealous of priestcraft, and, 
for one in his position, quite a dcA'otee of learning. From our English 
visitors and customers I early acquired a smattering of their language, 
and some A^ague ideas of that liberty Avhich I then, in childish igno- 
rance, supposed they enjoyed. 

" Our family life is noAV present to my memory as a happy union of 
social love and intellect. My father recited the poems of Racine and 
Corneille, my mother rehearsed the fairy legends of her people ; both 
delighted in the heroic annals of the GencA^ese, and loA'ed to dAvell on 
the better days of that people. Around us Avas the sublime scenery of 
SAvitzerland ; our associations Avere largely Avith cultivated travelers, 



58 WESTERN WILDS. 

and poetry was inwrought with my childish nature. But my father 
was siill Frenchman enougli to be given to the contemplation of vast 
systems of social philosophy — that peculiarly French philosophy which 
takes great and comprehensive princi})les on trust, and believes that 
man, once they are taught him, charmed by their beauty and symme- 
try, will gladly embrace them. The federation of the world, the equal- 
ization of conditions, the abolition of poverty— these were the themes 
that charmed his leisure hours, when not employed in the struggle to 
further increase the inequality that was already great betMcen him and 
his poorer neighbors. How pleasing is that philosophy by which great 
principles arc first to be established, upon which society and govern- 
ment are to be constructed like geometrical figures, and people mod- 
eled to fit and adopt them ; but how much more practical and sensible 
that cautious progress of your people and the English, which is taught 
by events, and is sometimes willing to learn humbly at the tribunal of 
facts. 

"On such a nature as mine the daily hearing of these things had 
momentous influence. Had I been bred to trade, it might have gone 
well. Commerce would have corrected the errors of an overheated 
imagination, and contact with men as they are, proved a healthful cor- 
rective to too much contemplation of them as they might h^. But my 
ambitious parents, who were vastly improved in circumstances by the 
prosperous years that succeeded the general peace, and the return tide 
of English travel, determined to bestow upon their only son a classical 
education, at that day in Geneva thought to be the key to all prefer- 
ments in church or state. Even now I feel a pang at what must have 
been the keenness of their disappointment. Once entered upon my 
classical studies, a new world was opened to my impressible mind. 
Mythology I found but dull — how could so grand a people have be- 
lieved in such filthy deities? — but the heroes of classic annals set my 
very soul on fire. Could it be that such men had lived — men that died 
by battalions for the honor of their country, or ran upon their swords 
rather than survive her liberty? I panted as I read, I breathed the 
very spirit of Livy ; I shed tears over what other school-boys called 
the dull pages of Tacitus. In moments of such enthusiasm, I had but 
to close my eyes and recite the sonorous lines, and at once before me 
rushed the awful pageant of the returning conqueror: his triumphal 
car, the captured enemies of his country walking behind it, the blare 
of trumpets, the tramp of victorious legions, while the welkin rang 
with the shouts of Roman thousands. I struggled with the patriots 
of Thermopylfe, I defended the bridge with Horatius, with Dcntahis 



GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 59 

I bared my breast to traitors, I ran upon my sword in the despair of 
Brutus. 

"But when I read the bright annals of Geneva's better days, it was 
as though I had breathed an intoxicating incense; and in the Refor- 
mation I found a vein of antique heroism. Calvin, Pascal, the Wal- 
dense, the Albigense, I wept over their sorrows and trials, was warmed 
with their struggles, and glad in their triumphs. Not their religion, 
but the exaltation of their patriotism excited me. How dull, then, 
seemed the common-place life of our trading town, how mean its petty 
economies; and how unworthy the destiny my parents had so fondly 
imagined for me. The beautiful land and city which patriot reformers 
had early saved from papal Rome, now seemed given up to the gods of 
materialism and sold wholly to the commercial Satan. I was blinded 
to the heroism of common life — the true greatness of the many who 
daily toil and suffer for those they love. 

"Before reaching my eighteenth year I fully determined to seek a 
land where political systems were yet to be developed, and might be 
modeled upon abstract equity. I would be a citizen of the Republic 
of Humanity. But where was such a land to be found? The revolu- 
tion of 1830 had only resulted in giving France another king; and 
their so-called moderate monarchy I looked upon with abhorrence. 
Like my classic models, I believed the very name of king incompatible 
with freedom. England was still less tolerable. I associated it with 
all that was hateful in titles and hereditary privileges. The New 
World was the place to look for the Brotherhood of Man ; for the very 
air of Europe was poisoned with priestcraft, and its soil barren of high 
resolve. The South American States were struggling toward an auton- 
omy, but, with the subtle instinct of the Teutonic blood, I distrusted 
the lofty professions of a Latin race. Their short-lived liberty dem- 
onstrated an inherent incapacity to respect the individual right, and 
their young republic was only old despotism under new names and 
forms. Republics, I was persuaded, could not coexist with priests; for 
with their politics I had nearly rejected my people's religion. 

" With the little sum I could gain by long pleading with my parents, 
I sought this republic, persuaded that here, when one met a man, he 
met a brother. 

" Need I say that I was cruelly disappointed. Without nobility, there 
was almost equal caste ; and without old families, there was equal 
tyranny in the new. Wealth and color made classes as widely diver- 
gent as rank and birth, and in the boasted land of liberty, one-tenth 
of the whole population were bondsmen. The republic was ruled by 



60 WESTERN WILDS. 

an oligarchy of slaveholders, and along the same paths trod by Wash- 
ington, l)lack men were chased by republicans, or torn by blood-hounds, 
for the crime of seeking freedom, in sight of the very school-houses 
where boys declaimed in praise of William Tell. I visited the various 
communes, where a few enthusiastic spirits had sought to establish the 
Human Brotherhood on a basis of perfect equality. At New Harmony 
I found the short-lived experiment already a failure. Communia was 
even less satisfactory. The religious communes I found intolerable 
from their plentiful lack of common sense ; and in the others observed 
a grossness of conception that raised in my mind a wonder, not that 
they failed, but that they should ever have been established. I turned 
my steps toward Nauvoo, then rising into prominence as the last and 
greatest attempt to establish a religious brotherhood. But there I 
found all the evils of the old systems, with few of their corresponding 
benefits : priestcraft without its paternal care, greed without a thought 
of future reckoning insuring the defeat of its own aims, and a fanat- 
icism which scorned the commonest suggestions of prudence. That 
such a community would soon or late come into conflict with the 
neighboring Americans, was certain. 

"From Nauvoo, in the early months of 1842, I visited St. Louis, 
meeting there an agent of the American Fur Company, with whom I 
took employment. I was nearly cured of my early dreams, but still 
hoped that a land might be found where humanity would have a fairer 
chance, and rank and wealth confer no greater power than morals and 
intellect. I sousrht the AVestern Wilds to commune with nature in her 
unbroken solitudes, convinced that there, at least, the few residents w-ere 
as brothers. But humanity's weakness is common alike to the city and 
the desert. On the vast plains, and amid the majestic mountains, wherever 
man meets man, the struggle goes on even more fiercely, though not 
more earnestly, than beneath the smooth surface of urban society. 
Every-where the strong and ambitious are struggling to the front, the 
weak and unskillful falling to the rear. Under the pressure of com- 
mon danger or common want, the pioneers do indeed become as 
brothers, for the safety of each is the good of all ; but the danger 
passed or the want supplied, egotism asserts itself even more fiercely 
for its temporary repression. Even as you have seen the unhurt buffa- 
loes gore a wounded mate to death, lest its struggles and bello wings 
attract the beast of prey, so the rushing crowd can not pause, lest he 
who is up to-day go down to-morrow. 

"February, 1843, found me at Fort Lancaster on the Platte, without 
any particular aim. There I met Colonel Warfield, in the service of 



GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 61 

the young republic of Texas, bearing a commission adorned with the 
bold signature of Sam Houston, President. I was then twenty-two 
years of age, and seriously debating with myself whether I should not 
gladden the hearts of my parents by a return to the sober life of 
Geneva. A few years had done wonders for me. Practical life had 
taught me to dream no more of the Brotherhood of Man; that liberty 
and progress are to be secured by no cunningly devised schemes, but 
earned by slow and toilsome steps of the individual, and that 
priestcraft and despotism can not be argued out, but must be suifered 
out. But I saw more clearly that a free republic, with all its faults, is 
still the best attainable government, and a brief acquaintance with 
Colonel Warfield revived much of my old enthusiasm. The Texans 
had freed themselves from the tyrannous domination of another race, 
and were struggling toward a more perfect liberty, and instinctively I 
sympathized with them. With heightened color and eye glowing with 
patriotic ardor, Colonel Warfield recounted the undying glories of the 
Alamo, where Crockett, Travis and their brave companions died fight- 
ing to the last; of Goliad, Corpus Christ! and San Jacinto. It was 
to me the classic age restored. Heroes walked the earth again. There 
were giants in that land and in those days. But when he unfolded the 
bullet-riddled flag that had waved over Corpus Christi, and told of 
the brave men who there died beneath its folds, I was filled with zeal 
to emulate their heroism. 

" When he called for volunteers, a start only was needed, and, fol- 
lowing my example, a dozen men promptly enrolled their names. We 
were to be part of a volunteer company of riflemen, the remainder to 
join us at the rendezvous just beyond the Arkansas, on the Rio de las 
Animas, in what was then Mexican territory. We were to act as 
a corps of observation to assist the main army, then on its way from 
Texas, and were enlisted for nine months, each man to furnish his own 
horse, gun, and accoutrements. The others accompanied Colonel 
Warfield at once, but settlement with the company detained me ten 
days, and I set out alone on the 9th of March. A snow-storm had 
raged for a week, and, with a great deal of suffering, I made my way 
alone to the mouth of the Fontaine Que Bouille, and thence, with a 
single companion, to the rendezvous. Disappointment awaited me. 
The expected detachment from the States had not arrived, and our 
whole force numbered but twenty-four men — adventurers, apparently, 
from every clime under heaven, and well supplied as to arms and 
horses. They were uniformed in dazzling variety, but in one respect 
harmoniously — a uniform of furs, blankets, and rags ! 



62 



WESTERN WILDS. 



"If I was amazed at the appearance of these patriots, how much 
more was I confoanded by their language ! Can I record their con- 
versation, their absurd views of political morality, their desires, their 
hopes! A few were, I trust, like myself, acting from pure love of 
liberty, a few for the good of the republic, more from a hope of gain, 
and most from the pure abandon of Western character. But from the 
eyes of all gleamed a good nature that gave hope of social comfort and 
safety among them, while the cheerful frankness with which they spoke 
of their past indicated too plainly that a few of them felt more comfortable 







TO THE KENDEZVOUS. 



beyond the reach of legal process. One young man, whose conversa- 
tion showed some culture, evinced great anxiety to form a junction 
with the main army, and penetrate at once into the Mexican settle- 
ments — and no wonder. I afterwards learned that he had left St. 
Louis impromptu, somewhat in arrears in his accounts with a bank in 
which he had been employed. His most intimate companion was 
equally eager for an early advance. The friends of a lady in Ohio, he 
frankly stated, had given him a great deal of trouble — all uncalled for. 



GEFFBOY'S TRIALS. 63 

he insisted ; but the laws of that Puritanic commonwealth were odi- 
ous and tyrannical upon social subjects. He was an ardent advocate 
of individual liberty. Another avowed himself weary of a life of 
hardships on the mountains and plains; he was going down into 
Mexico for a little rest. His right-hand neighbor had left the 
States because he was tired of a humdrum life ; he wanted a change. 
One went for variety, another to find a location ; all seemed to think 
the expedition a brief holiday, which was to end in victory and abun- 
dance. They had our future course fully settled : we should travel 
leisurely across prairies rich in grass, thread canons alive with game, 
and effect a junction with the Texan Invincibles, a thousand strong; 
then march on the settlements, encounter perhaps some thousands of 
Mexican soldiers, scatter them like the wind, dictate terms to Old Armijo, 
in Santa Fe, make an advantageous peace, and settle down in the mild 
climate and on the fertile soil of the Rio Grande to a life of dreamful 
ease. There was much talk of dark-eyed scnoritas, dowered with vast 
ranches, where the contented owner would ride amid his thousands of 
sheep and cattle, pluck the luscious grape, and drink from great casks 
of red wine. This was their romance ; the reality is to come. 

"After brief consultation, a division of forces was agreed upon. 
Fourteen men, including the Colonel, were to go down to the ' Cross- 
ing' (where the Santa Fe trail crossed the Arkansas), and await the 
main body of riflemen from the States, or obey any orders from the 
Texan force, wdiile the remainder, among them myself, were to proceed 
to the point where the Taos trail crossed the Las Animas, and act as a 
scouting party until further orders. We set out on the 21st of INIarch, 
under command of a lieutenant, a gallant and graceful polyglot, who 
gave command in three languages, and joked and swore in a dozen 
more with inspiring fluency. That day we marched up the Timpas, 
then turned south south-west, toward the Las Animas. Having started 
with but one day's supply of provisions, and that of dried buffalo meat, 
we soon suffered for food. Our dependence w^as upon game, but at 
that season there is little grass, and animals are poor and shy. Two 
days and three nights did we toil over the high and barren lands with- 
out food, and only supplied with water from the pools filled by melting 
snow. Our horses were so exhausted that we walked most of the time, 
chewing only the cud of bitter fancies. Already the bright visions 
with which we set out were dissipated, and an awful sense of impend- 
ing calamity seemed to weigh down the spirits of every one. The 
third day we killed a straggling wolf, which furnished us a miserable 
meal — just enough to excite a ravenous desire for something better. 



64 WESTERN WILDS. 

Three days more we fasted, and came, completely exhausted, upon an 
old Indian camp, where we found some green buffalo hides, which the 
wolves had abandoned. These we scraped and boiled till we had a 
pasty mixture resembling glue thickened with scraps of leather, upon 
which we made a hearty meal. Again we fasted two days, and at 
last, faint from starvation, descended into the valley of Las Animas. 

" The green growth here and there greatly restored our horses, and, 
despite the warning of the more experienced, some of the men ventured 
to cat the cactus bulb, insisting that its rank properties might be erad- 
icated by roasting it in hot sand and ashes, in the same manner as the 
California Indians neutralize the virus of various roots. The first who 
partook felt no immediate eflPccts, and praised it highly, upon which we 
all ate greedily, drinking freely at the same time of the slightly miner- 
alized water of the Las Animas. But two hours' time showed that the 
inherent properties of the cactus were but slightly neutralized, if at all. 
Strange tremblings shook our frames, succeeded by dizziness and a de- 
sire to vomit. These were followed soon by agonizing pains, in which 
the sufferers rolled upon the ground in fearful contortions, and uttering 
heart-rending cries. It was a night of unmitigated misery. All recov- 
ered, but so weak that only three of the party were able to move about. 
It was simply impossible to proceed, or even hunt for game. Accord- 
ingly lots were cast between the horses, and the one thus condemned 
was slaughtered for food. On this we made a most delicious meal, al- 
ternately resting and eating at frequent intervals all day. Late at 
night we Avere so far restored that we feasted with glad hearts, and 
again the camp resounded with jokes, songs, and laughter. All were 
clamorous to advance at once on the Mexican settlements. Daily I 
saw more and more that mountaineers are much like children — unduly 
confident when all goes well, and correspondingly gloomy under the 
pressure of distress. The equal mind, preserved in arduous toils and 
fortune's sunshine, product of a higher mental cultivation, is not often 
theirs; they are elated by good omens, and cast down by auguries of 
ill ; their plans are often disturbed by the suggestion of night-mare 
dreams, and gloomy apprehensions seize them from the unseasonable 
flights of birds or other strange outgivings of animal instinct. 

" With restored strength, and some few days' supjjly of food, we trav- 
eled up stream, and were soon in the grand canon of the Rio de las An- 
imas, as it is called by the Catholic Spaniards. This strange river, 
with such extremes of delightful valley, barren waste, or gloomy and 
forbidding cafion, has received corresponding names from all races. 
The Indians call it the Wild River, the French christened it Piquer 



GEFFROTS TRIALS. 



65 



L'Eau, or water of suiFering, but the pious Spaniards name it River of 
Souls, which your unpoetic but practical race have shortened to Purga- 
tory. We soon entered the grand canon where the stream cuts its 
way through a high and barren table-land, running in a deep gorge, with 
almost perpendicular sides. Sometimes these crowd 
in upon the stream, and fallen rocks choke up its bed, 
producing a series of beautiful cascades ; again, the 
cliffs recede, and leave a little oval valley, inclosed 
by red and yellow walls, rich in grass and timber, 
and often abounding in game. At length we 
reached a gorge too narrow and difficult for pass- 
age, and were compelled to turn into a side gulch 
and climb the almost perpendicular cliff*, at least six 
hundred feet in height. All day we toiled along a 
series of rocky offsets, again and again lifting our 
horses over the rocks by means of ropes attached 
to their bodies, and at night-fall camped upon the 
high mesa. Thence we followed only the general 
course of the Las Animas until we arrived at our 
destined post, which was in a large grove of cot- 
tonwoods just below where the Taos trail crosses 
the stream. North and east were the sandy des- 
erts, southward the tierras templadas that skirt the 
heads of the Cimarron and the Colorado tributary to ^"^^^^ °^ ^^^ animas. 
the Canadian; but westward a more fertile plat rose even to the foot of 
the Huatiuetories, which your people now call the Spanish Peaks. There 
we kept close guard upon the trail, expecting to capture some of the 
enemy's scouts, but beyond that and herding our stock, were free from 
care. Grass, game and pure water were abundant, and in a few days 
every man felt equal to a hundred Mexicans. Again songs were heard 
and merriment reigned around the camp-fire ; again did we hear of 
that glorious future in Mexico. All the omens were propitious ; the 
restored mountaineers had good dreams, and the birds again flew in 
unison with their brightest hopes. 

" Doubts of my companions, which had slumbered in time of toil and 
trouble, returned amid abundance, but were happily set at rest bv a 
circumstance that soon occurred. One day our guards hailed a small 
party, who fled northward, but were captured after a sharp chase of sev- 
eral miles. They proved to be two Americans and an Englishman, 
with two Mexican guides and servants, on their way from Santa Fe to 
Fort Lancaster, and thence to the States. Havini^ been successful 




66 WESTERN WILDS. 

traders, they were well equipped, and had with them a large quantity 
of gold and silver ; but, after hearing their aeeount, our party released 
them. It was evident then, tliat whatever our men might be, and how- 
ever unworthy the motives of some, they were not marauders. 

" From these travelers we received news that greatly disheartened us. 
A European Spaniard, who had been in the Texan army of invasion 
in 1842, and was then suspected of being a spy, had reported himself 
for reenlistment, and been assigned to Colonel AVarfield's command. 
This action caused unusual confidence to be reposed in him, and after 
gleaning all the information possible, he proceeded by the shortest 
route to Santa Fe, and laid the whole case before the Mexican Gov- 
ernor, Armijo. But that worthy had received still more circumstantial 
accounts of us from some resident American traders, who had agents 
out upon the plains, and who were base enough to betray the cause of 
liberty for such favors in the remission of tariff duties, and other com- 
mercial advantages, as a Mexican Governor at that time could extend. 

" Soon after came a messenger from Colonel Warfield with orders to 
join him at Rabbit Ears, a noted landmark midway between the 
Cimarron and Arkansas. We had enough of the Las Animas, and our 
lieutenant mapped out a new route, thus : south two and a half days to 
the Cimarron, thence down it five days to the Santa Fe trail, and 
thence north-west to Rabbit Ears. We entered at once upon the sandy 
plain, which continued all the way to the Cimarron. Sometimes 
cacti covered the sand so close that every step was dangerous, or thick 
clusters of greasewood excluded all useful growth ; and again naked 
sterility denied footing to vegetable life. As we neared the Cimarron, 
the region grew still more forbidding. Behind us was the desolate 
table-land, before us the gloomy mountains; the few water holes were 
poisonous with alkali or other mineral salts, and the men, half crazed 
with thirst, declared with profane emphasis that such a country was 
little worth fighting for. We descended through a side gorge into the 
canon of the Cimarron, winding along a buffalo trail, and upon a rocky 
bench barely wide enough for our animals. The walls of this fissure 
were at least eight hundred feet high, and facing each other at a 
distance not exceeding twenty-five yards. A large stone, loosened at 
the beo-innins: of our descent, shot downward with the velocitv of a 
cannon-ball, while the echoes sounded from side to side in gloomy re- 
verberations. Once down to the bottom of the cafion, our route was 
easy enough along the course of the stream; at times in an oval 
vale, adorned by heavy groves and vocal with the songs of birds, 
again in a narrow canon, and again out upon bare ])lnts of l)urning sand. 



GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 



67 



Bat whether the few green plats were the beginning of mother nature's 
mighty reform, to redeem the whole desert, or the last survivals in the 
lonof struo^ffle against increasing: barrenness, we could not know. The 
stream is large, and the water pure through this part of its course, 
but as soon as we emerged upon the great plain, the Cimarron shrunk 
to a mere rivulet, and in a little while vanished entirely. Thence for 
hundreds of miles, it is said, scarcely a shrub or spear of grass adorns 
its banks. The high plains between the Cimarron and Arkansas we 
found even more desolate. There only the transient showers and melt- 
ing snows of spring produce, in the most fa- 
vored spots, a faint tinge of green. Then a 
few pearly drops spatter crag and peak, or 
linger on the plain as though desolation half 
relented the work she had to do, or mother 
nature sorrowed for her short-lived offspring ; 
but soon all this is passed, and summer with 
scorching days and dewless nights hastens to 
ravish the evanescent beauties of spring and 
turn her green to stubble. 

" Reaching the Santa Fe trail, we met a 
friendly party of Arapahoes, who told us that 
four hundred Mexican cavalry had gone 
north in search of us only two days before, getting down to the cim- 

» 1 . /» 1 1 • 1 AKKON. 

As this was confirmed by evidences on 

the trail, we strained every nerve to get across the desert and effect 
a junction with the rest of the force. The season was already well 
advanced, and, to avoid heat and thirst, we traveled as ftir as possible 
that night. During the entire distance of some forty miles we found 
no water, and till late the next afternoon men and horses suffered the. 
agonies of thirst. The animals finally became almost unmanageable, 
and our principal pack-horse stampeded, carrying off considerable 
ammunition, and could not be recovered. Coming up to the rendez- 
vous, Avhat was our disappointment to find, not the expected detach- 
ment from the States, but the handful we had left a few weeks before 
on the Arkansas. Discouragement and discontent now threatened 
open mutiny. The season was late, and the hottest weather approach- 
ing ; the water-holes were fast drying up, the Mexicans fully apprised 
of our plans, and the whole country on our line of advance scoured 
by their cavalry. Colonel Warfield hurriedly set forth the situation ; 
then, with one of his nervous magnetic appeals, urged us to strike at 
least one blow before retiring. By unanimous vote a new plan was 




?5^S>*«'-i''f^*''"* 



68 WESTERN WILDS. 

agreed upon. It ^vould never do for us to return the way we had 
come, a.s every water-hole was guarded, and an ambush set in every 
mountain pass. We must strike one l)h)\v, and then, if the Texan 
army never came, reach the Arkansas by a less frequented course. 

"It was decided to go westward up the arroyo we were on, and then 
straight south to the Cimarron again. The two days we followed the 
arroyo, grass was abundant, and water enough found in the limestone 
"pockets," which appear occasionally along these canons. Thence 
southward we pressed with all possible speed day and night over the 
barren mesa, and when men anci horses Avere frantic with thirst, again 
arrived at the Cimarron. There we cached our surplus baggage, and 
thence made another forced march across the rocky table-lands, and 
over a sjiur of the Taos Mountains, toward the nearest Mexican settle- 
ments. Halting in a green depression of the divide between the 
waters flowing cast and those of the Rio Grande, our scouts reported a 
body of sixty Mexican cavalry in a fortified camp just ahead, and com- 
manding the only pass to the settlements. Further scouting dis- 
covered a point from Avhich our whole force might overlook their 
camp. This point we gained by a circuitous route next day, and 
camped in a dense thicket of cedars and pines. Below was a consider- 
able valley, through which ran a small stream bordered by cotton- 
wood and willoAv ; in a dense grove of the former, and on the farther 
bank of the stream, was the Mexican camp, beyond it a narrow pass 
leading to a small town. It Avas agreed that avc should effect a sur- 
prise just beyond daylight next morning, capture the force if possible, 
then make a dash into the toAvn and retreat before they could raise a 
force sufficient to oppose us. 

" Soon after midnight avc cautiously descended by a detour of some 
five miles, Avhich brought us down into the cottonwood thicket nearest 
the enemA''s camp. Thence Ave moved on sloAvly to the bank of the 
stream, but Avere disconcerted to find it three times as large as it had 
appeared from the hill. After a Avhispered consultation, it Avas de- 
cided that the enemy's guards Avere upon the opposite bank and might 
be surprised and disarmed. With this view we Avaded the almost ice- 
cold stream so noiselessly that Ave Avere ascending the opposite bank 
when the first sentinel hailed: 

" ' Quienes veniren f (Who comes?) 

" ' Que dijo f ' (What do you say ?) * 

'" Quienes veniren / Caraho!' was his response, as he discharged his 
piece at the nearest man, and fled into camp. We folloAved close, and 
were upon the soldiers as they rose from sleep. 



GEFFROTS TRIALS. 69 

" '3funchos Tcjanos P (Many Texans !) yelled the other sentinels, 
as our men rushed upon and disarmed them. 

"'Si, si, munchos Tejanos — quieron los scoupetasP was the cry, as 
we sprang to prevent them. The five men named for that duty had 
secured most of the arms, but a short, sharp struggle ensued, in which 
five of the Mexicans were killed and as many wounded. But the sur- 
prise Avas so complete that most of them fled precipitately toward the 
pass. It was impossible to secure our prisoners and the captured 
arms, and collect our horses in time to make the intended attack upon 
the village before they could have been fully aroused and prepared. 
We therefore hastily collected the arras and horses of the fugitives, 
paroled the prisoners, destroyed every thing we could not carry off, 
and pushed with all speed for the spur by which we might reach the 
table-lands to the eastward. Reaching, late in the afternoon, a high 
point in the eastward pass, we thought ourselves beyond pursuit, and 
halted for a rest. In the general gayety, discipline was relaxed, and 
the guards stationed with the horses ventured to leave their posts for a 
few moments and enter camp. In the midst of our meal the shout was 
heard: 'There go our horses!' and all hands sprang up only to witness 
our noble cavallard under full headway before a body of Mexican 
horsemen, while at the same instant a brisk fire was opened upon us 
from flank and rear. For an instant we were paralyzed ; then seized 
our arms, and, at the word of command, charged upon the enemy on the 
hill in front. The panic-stricken Mexicans rushed down the opposite 
slope, leaving three dead upon the ground ; we followed, and soon 
cleared the field in all directions, till not an enemy was in sight. 
One of the Mexicans had been holding two mustangs in the rear of 
the attacking party, and though shot dead, still held the halters tight 
gripped in his hands. Hurriedly cutting them loose, the St. Louis 
man and I sprang upon the animals, and, despite the warning cry from 
Colonel Warfield, dashed after the cavallard, now on the brow of the 
plateau, two or three miles away, and going at full speed. 

" It was madness, but we had little time to think. It was death, we 
considered, to lose our horses in such a place, and to die in an attempt 
to regain them could not be worse. A gallop of a few miles, without 
gaining on the cavallard, gave us time to reconsider, and we turned re- 
gretfully toward the camp. But as we did so, a party of at least fifty 
Mexican horsemen appeared on the way we had come. A wild yell of 
triumph rose upon the air, followed by a shower of scoupeta balls, one 
of which laid my companion's horse dead, leaving its rider senseless 
upon the ground. One instant I thought of surrender as a prisoner of 



70 WESTERN WILDS. 

war. But quickly came the thought that, in the lieated condition of 
the enemy, certain death awaited me ; or, if not that, a lingering death 
in a Spanish dungeon. I was nerved by desperation, and dashed down 
a long slope to the right. 

"From every hollow, from behind every sandy hillock, horsemen 
seemed to rise, and still I cleared them all. The mustang was compar- 
atively fresh, and, by frequent doubling and turning, I gained the ad- 
vance on a long slope, which led westward to the plain. A hundred 
INIcxican cavalry were strung out behind me, the nearest just out of 
range. Slowly I gained upon them, plying the spur savagely, and was 
just beginning to breathe more freely, when suddenly there yaAvned 
before me an arroyo Avith jierpendicular sides, not more than tAventy 
feet wide, but of unknown depth. I reined my mustang back npon 
his haunches at the very edge of the chasm, then turned to look my 
last upon the earth. How fair then seemed the desert, but a little 
while ago so wild and waste — how bright the sun — how majestic the 
snowy mountains, glowing far to the north through the calm air ! 

"A yell of triumph from the enemy came with sudden jar upon my 
cars, and close after it a shower of scoupeta balls ; one cut my coat- 
sleeve, while another plowed a furrow along my cheek. The sharp 
sting of pain, the flow of warm blood, the insulting yell, maddened me. 
I would not die — would not consent to their triumph ; or, if die I must, 
I would sell my life dearly. I turned and galloped fiercely towards the 
foe, discharging my pistol as I advanced. In sheer astonishment at my 
desperation, they drew up. Again animal fear reasserted itself — the 
mad instinct for one moment more of life — and I turned towards the 
chasm. Again the fierce, insulting yell of the mongrel cut-throats — 
again a shower of scoupeta balls. And now the enemy were near 
enough for me to hear their insulting laugh — their discussion in bastard 
Spanish of the best method to finish me without danger. They came 
on more and more slowly. Again a few scoupeta balls whistled around 
me, and I felt the sting of another slight wound. 

"Could my mustang leap the chasm? These mountain-trained 
beasts were active ; he was young and strong ; at the worst it was but 
death — death sudden and bravely dared. Thus swifter than lightning 
ran my thoughts in the awful presence of the unknown. 

" Putting him at full speed, I spurred him to the very edge, then, 
rising in my stirrups, loosed the reins as he bravely took the leap. I 
hear, as if it were but yesterday, the loud yell from the astonished 
Mexicans; I see again the frightful gorge — in awful dreams again I 
urge him to the fearful leap. 



GEFF ROY'S TRIALS. 



71 



" With a tremendous bound he cleared the chasm, landino; wifh his 
fore feet on the opposite side. For one brief instant the life of horse 
and man trembled in the balance. Plope, despair, joj, resignation — 
liow rapidly I felt them all, but only for an instant. With deadly re- 
bound, I felt myself thrown violently downward, and against the op- 
posite side. Pure sunlight changed to fiery red, and again to dazzling 




FOR LIFE OR DEATH. 



gray ; my mother's sad, sweet face looked down an instant from the 
narrowed sky ; streams of fire darted from the firmament, and after 
them came darkness blacker than tongue can tell. Blow after blow 
was rained upon my head ; my flesh was cut as with sharp knives. I 
was an age in falling, and yet all was over in an instant. Conscious- 
ness yielded, and I sank down, down, down into darkness, oblivion ! 
Was it death? 



CHAPTER V. 

DOLOEES. 

" Was I in the land of spirits ? Had the awful River of Souls in- 
deed swallowed me up ? Dense darkness, blaekness that could be felt, 
was around me. Every faculty was suspended, except simple con- 
sciousness ; of past or future I had no conception — I only knew that I 
was. It must be that I had passed from earth, and this was the region 
into which philosophy had never penetrated. 

" There was a slight rustle near me, and, exerting all my force of 
will, I attempted to move ; there shot through me such a pang of agony 
that I screamed aloud. 

" 'Ah, j)ovrltta ! ' said a soft, musical voice, and delicate fingers 
touched my forehead, and then were pressed upon my lips. I dimly 
comprehended that I was to remain silent and still ; but my pain 
was too great, and I groaned again and again. I now perceived that 
my left arm and leg were tightly bandaged, and held in rude wooden 
frames ; my head also was covered with some tenacious strips. I was 
helpless as a mummy. The gloom seemed to soften; a ray of light ap- 
peared here and there, and a distant tinkling was heard, like the sound 
of sheep bells. A cup was pressed to my lips ; I drank of a bitter de- 
coction, and soon sank into a profound sleep. 

" When I awoke, comparatively free from pain, there was light 
enough to show that I was lying on a couch in a small room, in which 
some one was moving about. The blanket which served for a door 
was put aside, admitting the bright rays of the morning sun, and the 
same soft voice spoke in Spanish. 

" 'Are they out of sight, Gomez ?' 

" ' Beyond El Sentinel, scnorita,' was the reply. 

" 'And gone ?' 

"'To join the main body, maesira mia; they will never look here.' 

" I understood barely enough of the language to know that this im- 
plied safety. The curtain was slowly drawn aside, and the speakers 
departed. For hours I sought in vain to take up the tangled thread 
of my existence. Geneva Avas clear in my mind, and I fancied myself 
in some cave in the hills of Switzerland. I thought, and thought, and 



DOLORES. 



73 



thought again, ' Much wondering what I was, whence hither brought, 
and how.' Beyond my school days I could not get the clew. Again 
I slept, and awaking memory brought back my journey to the States, 
the Texan expedition, and — all at once I was again at the rendezvous ; 
again I rushed madly on the chasm, again I dared the awful leap, 
and, with a shriek, relapsed into insensibility. 

" I was dimly conscious of two persons about my bed, both men ; 
but men of a garb and color I had seen only in dreams. The one 
who seemed to have most authority again pressed the bitter draught to 
my lips, and I sank into a long refreshing sleep. When I awoke it 
was midday, and I saw that I was in a room half cave, half cabin, 
such as the Mexican herdsmen build far up the mountains. On the 
wall were pictures of the A-^irgin and some saints, at the foot of the bed 
a crucifix, while a few adornments of some elegance were scattered 
about. It Avas evidently the abode of rude herdsmen, hastily refitted 
by a woman. All this I saw in a few seconds of half-waking con- 
sciousness. But only for an instant. As I moved, some one came 
forward holding a cup, and at 
sight of her, the red blood rushed 
over my enfeebled frame. She 
spoke. Away flew all my dreams 
of Texan independence, away my 
heroic plans for the Brotherhood 
of Man, away my cultivated 
hatred of all the Spanish race ; 
any life was worthless that did 
not include her. In this there was 
no cold reasoning; there was no 
thought that it was best, or why 

;. ,. „„ 1^ 1. -J. A.\ \ 2 "SOMEONE CAME FORWARD HOLDING A CUP." 

it was best; it came as the hot 

winds come from the desert, upon the green oasis. 

" ' The Virgin be praised, he speaks and lives ! ' 

"'But where am I?' 

"'Safe.' 

" ' But my friends, my companions in arms ? ' 

"'They are gone to their own country; but never mind. Eest and 
sleep.' 

"I need not recount the progress of our attachment. Her home 
was at a hacienda, some miles down the valley — one of the outposts. 
Her parents were rich only in flocks and herds ; their servants, peons 
and Pueblo Indians. As the custom of these herders is to move higher 




74 



WESTERN WILDS. 



up the mountains with the advance of the season, tliey were in this 
hut at the time of our approach. It appeared that the rebound of mv 
horse from the opposite bank had hurled me back into the bushes 
growing out from the side of the gorge some twenty feet down ; and 
thence by a succession of falls among the shrubby growth, I had 
reached the bottom sixty feet below, fearfully bruised and broken, but 
not mortally hurt. The Mexicans saw no way of descending except 

bv makins a lonir circuit 



and seeing my horse 
crushed to jelly at the bot- 
tom, they concluded I 
was dead under h i m. 
Fortunately I was found 
by the Pueblo Ggmez, 



-"^^ 




and brought to the cabin. 
Had a Mexican found 



me 



" THE MEXICANS SAW NO WAY OF DESCENDING." 



" Had word gone to the 
hacienda, the command 
would have been prompt : 
' Give him up ! " But she saw me first, and womanly pity sub- 
ordinated all other thoughts to that of saving me. In secret the 
medicine man of the nearest pueblo was brought to dress my w^ounds 
and bandage my broken limbs, and at the end of ten days I slowly 
struo-crled back to life and consciousness. Still the Mexican authoi'- 
ities were ignorant of my existence. Should they learn it, what would 
be my fate? Perhaps to be honorably treated as a prisoner of war, 
perhaps to be murdered at sight. It would depend entirely on the 
first officer who took charge of me. So many are the castes among 
these people, and so great the difference between different clans, that 
with one the prisoner is treated as a guest, while by another he is 
butchered like a wild beast. But I was for the present safe, and in 
time took up the clew of my past life, and followed it down to the last 
moment of consciousness — slowly, painfully, as the wounded hunter 
drags his bleeding limbs towards home, with many halts and stumblings. 
The old life was gone ; the new life had grown up with Dolores, for 
such, she told me, was her name. I seemed to have nothing I did not 
owe to her, and for the present it was enough to live and love. She 
taught me her language more perfectly, though we scarcely needed it ; 
and the days of convalescence passed as a brief dream. 

"At length I was able to leave the cabin, and, leaning upon the arm 



DOLORES. 75 

of Dolores, ^valked to a projecting rock, which commanded a view of 
the Mora pass. Then my past life seemed renewed, as familiar 
thoughts were excited by the scenery. But Dolores was now my 
arbiter. Of her people I knew little ; for her religion I cared nothing. 
It was hers, therefore it could not be bad. Doubtless it was true as 
any other. I smiled at the Protestant prejudices of my youth; I gazed 
into the radiant eyes of Dolores, and thought the old world mad that 
all its religious differences had not yielded to the potent solvent of love. 
Our love came unbidden. We thouglit not of the morrow; we made 
no declarations ; we simply understood each other. But as we sat upon 
the rocky point, sometimes exchanging a word, but oftener in silent 
bliss, we saw a moving cloud of dust rise from the pass far below, 
and had just time to gain a point secluded from observation when a 
cavalcade came into full view. Imagine my horror when I saw my 
old companions, and with them fifty more Americans, toiling wearily 
through the dust and heat, bound elbow to elbow, and urged on by the 
mounted Mexicans, w4io laughed and jeered at the captives. I was 
mad with rage, but what could one do against so many? With tearful 
eyes I watched them out of sight beyond the rock El Sentinel, then 
turned with a fierce determination to hasten northward and brino; 
relief. Dolores met me with a smile, tinged w^ith a shade of sadness. 
It was enough. I easily found excuse for inaction. Again was the repub- 
lic forgotten, again the eternal rights of man seemed of minor impor- 
tance. I was happy here. What need of dwelling on the past? Why 
take such heavy thoughts for the future? Love is a radically selfish 
passion. Waking, I counted the moments till she should return ; sleep- 
ing, her image glided through my dreams. By day she smiled upon 
me in the landscape; by night she beamed upon me from the starry 
skies. 

" The summer was now far advanced ; hot days were followed by dew- 
less nights, and the grass was dried upon the ground. A new danger 
confronted us. Dolores only made her daily visit from the hacienda 
to the cabin at constant risk of attracting attention to my hiding-place; 
she now announced with sobs that the season had come when the 
Pueblos must remove the herds. Her father would return from the 
capital; if I remained at the cabin, it must be at daily and hourly 
risk. Her father was a cahallcro, she said, brave and generous ; but 
he was above all a Mexican. Duty and inclination alike would lead 
him to surrender me. His servants were doubtful. The few Pueblos 
she could trust; the j)Cons never. 

" It Avas a rude awakeuino;. All that calm afternoon we discussed 



76 WESTERN WILDS. 

our situation, at one moment mingling our tears, tlie next elate with 
firm determination. A seore of plans I proposed Avere in turn re- 
jected. To regain American territory Avas simply impossible. The 
irregular war with the Texans continued, and the country between us 
and the Arkansas was swarming with scouts. Every point was 
guarded. Starvation was possible, capture certain, death probable. 
My late companions were now languishing in Mexican dungeons; 
those who lived to return home would jjrobably do so with broken 
health. Death Avould certainly overtake many of them in ])rison. 
From such a ftite she prayed the Virgin to deliver me. Hour after 
hour passed; I Avould do or dare aught for her; but to fly now wa? 
to lose her forever. At last she sjDoke : 

" ' Gomez is our hope. He is not a j^con, but a free Pueblo. Many 
years absent from his toA^^n, he is bound to no cacique. Far to the 
west are other Pueblos who owe no duty to the Mexican Republic ; 
but between them and ours there is a friendship. Once they had a 
common ruler, and long kept the sacred fires burning for him. Gomez 
will guide you to that people. In any of those pueblos you are 
safe. Stay till there is peace Avith the Tejanos; then return, and 
.' Her light smile changed to a deep blush. 

" ' May the Virgin bless and protect you ! Every night I shall look 
upon the star that rises earliest aboA^e the peak Avhere I first saw your 
face. In one year I feel that you Avill return — one year. Oh, 
Santa Maria, is it eternity?' 

"*No, to the young and ardent it is long; but it Avill pass at 
last.' 

"'Now, go to rest; and as soon as Gomez can supply his place 
among the vacqueros, enter upon the journey. To hira can I 
intrust my chief treasure.' 

" Three nights after, as I lay asleep, Gomez touched me, and said 
in Spanish: 'The senorita Avaits; Ave start in an hour.' Down the 
sharp canon, and out upon the Avestern plain Ave found the animals 
tied ready for us, and in a little grove of algodones beyond the 
hacienda I met Dolores. Need I recount our parting. It Avas a 
short, delicious agony. I held her to my heart as Ave exchanged 
voAvs of eternal constancy ; then, pix^ssing kiss after kiss upon her 
lips, I hurried aAvay — for I kncAV not Avhat — in my ear her jjarting 
Avords, ' May all the saints Avatch OA'^er my love.' 

"Hastily crossing the narrow valley and ascending the slope Avest 
of it, at daylight Ave reached the first pueblo, the nominal home 
of Gomez, Avho maintained semi-allegiance to its cacique and fiscal ; 



DOLORES. 77 

and in its shaded recesses Ave remained for the day. The chief men 
conversed readily in Sj^anish ; but, among themselves, they spoke a 
language of which I could not catch a syllable. Nor is it known to 
the Mexicans, even to the interpreters who speak the tongues of all 
the wild tribes. They conduct all their trades in Spanish, and ex- 
clude Mexicans as much as possible from their towns. There is 
evidence that these people were once far more numerous than now, 
as the country was far more fertile. Conquered by the Spaniards 
nearly three centuries since, they revolted and with desperate bravery 
expelled or exterminated their conquerors. But, in 1690, a new and 
more powerful Spanish army reconquered the province ; the Quiros 
Tagnos, and kindred tribes submitted sullenly to the Spanish yoke, 
but the more warlike retreated to the defensible valleys and walled 
basins of the Sierra Madre Eange, and maintained a fierce inde- 
pendence. It was to those we were bound. Those near the Rio 
Grande, compelled to give up their Montezumas religion and become 
nominal Catholics, still held to many features of their ancient faith, 
and long cherished plans of revolution and vengeance. But time, 
which reconciles us to all things, had now led them to acquiesce in 
the political control of the Spanish race, though they tenaciously 
resisted all social intercourse, and maintained their own line of 
priesthood and a distinct language. 

"By the advice of Gomez, I here stained my face, hands, and arms 
with a pigment, which gave them color like that of the Pueblos ; 
and the next night we crossed the Rio Grande, as it was well for us 
to avoid observation till we left that neighborhood. After another 
halt at Jemez, near the wonderful Hot Springs, we hastened on to 
Dead Man's Canon and crossed into the land of the Navajoes. These 
Indians hung upon the slopes of the Sierra Madre, a living threat 
to the Mexican settlements. They waged a war, never intermitted 
for two^ hundred years after their fierce ancestors Avere driven from 
the fertile valleys and forced to find subsistence and refuge amid the 
secluded canons and on the storm-swept mesas of the mountains. In- 
genious, brave, and haughty, they called the Mexicans ' their herders,' 
and robbing Avithout quite ruining the dAvellers in the valley, they 
took tribute alternately from different settlements, leaving time be- 
tween raids for the sufferers to rencAV their stock and gather wealth 
for future forays. But now a precarious peace existed, and each 
Mexican hamlet secured protection by purchasing the friendship of 
some Navajo chieftain. 

" For the first two days of travel, I hung upon the neck of my 



78 WESTERN WILDS. 

little burro, weak in body and sad at recent parting; but soon 
fresh air and exercise^ ^vitll change of scene, brought new life, 
and I felt a strange interest in the people we encountered. We 
passed hot deserts, glistening with sand and alkali ; broad plateaus 
of bare sandstone, and occasionally green dells or wooded coves, 
where the natural beauty, by contrast Avith surrounding barrenness, 
awakened emotions of keen delight. Sometimes we jogged on for 
hours over a bare flat, then from the rocky rim walling an ancient 
basin descended to the beds of lakes long since dry, to find in the 
center and lowest depressions rich natural meadows or sullen pools, 
bordered by a few sickly cotton woods. We traversed wild gorges, 
where from every side red precipices frowned upon yellow sands; 
we crossed sandy wastes where glittered quartz-crystals, garnets, 
and flakes of mica, and saw upon the scarred peaks the awful evi- 
dences of a thousand cosmic convulsions. AVe passed amid bands 
of savage men, who grew gentle at our approach, after a few words 
or signs from Gomez; and traveled for days along a valley strewn 
with the ruins of abandoned towns. Again we turned to the hills, 
crossed the lowest divide of the Sierra Madre, and traveled on 
over sterile flats and treeless, grassless mesas. It seemed a land 
accursed of God and forgotten of civilized men, where only hunt- 
ers and herdsmen could wring a scant subsistence from unwilling 
nature; a land which even the all-grasping Spaniard did not covet, 
but left as a refuge for those who could not give him gold for blood, 
and would not yield the sweat of unpaid toil for his religion. 

" Beyond the last range of the Sierra Madre we descended to the 
canon of the Colorado Chiquito, rose again to the ]\resa Calabasa, 
and again cautiously threaded a defile down to an oval basin some 
thirty miles in width, dotted with little oases rich in native grasses. 
In the center of this vale Gomez pointed out the goal of our hopes. 
A sharp viesa rose abruptly from the plain, and on its summit were 
the Moqui towns. A few friendly Navajoes had accompanied us, 
for there was a temporary peace between them and their fierce 
neighbors, the Apaches. Rushing down the rocky paths with wild 
cries, the Moquis came to the foot of the mesa in disorder and 
apparent anger at our approach ; but a few words from Gomez reas- 
sured them, and I was conducted up the winding way by which 
alone the place is accessible, and led into the presence of their 
chief. He received me with civil dignity, assigned me a house, 
for many were vacant, and in a few days I was as much at home 
with these strange people as if I had been there for years. The 



DOLORES. 79 

Capital!, as their chief man was called, sought to cheer the hours, 
as far as his simple pleasures and uneventful life could interest me^ 
and as I^ grew to understand the people, tliey were a strange study 
to me. The government, if government it might be called, was a 
pure paternalism ; but repression was unnecessary, because crime could 
scarcely be said to exist. 

" At last, said I, the Brotherhood of Man is found. Here is no 
scheming of man to supplant his fellow; here all are equal, and 
obedience to natural law, M-ith mutual toleration, takes the place of 
courts and statutes. But I soon saw that in parting with most of 
the fliults of a progressive race, they had parted with many of its 
virtues and all of its advantages. There was no envy, for there was 
no emulation ; the weak were not trodden down by the strong in a 
struggle for place, for there was no struggle. There was no'' caste, 
for there was neither rank nor wealth; a dead level of social medi- 
ocrity took the place of our many distinctions in birth or condition. 
They had not the petty vices of a trading i)eople, as they had little in- 
tercourse with the rest of mankind ; nor the faults of a manufacturing 
town, for every family Avas its own manufacturer. Political strife 
never disturbed them, for there was no choice as to the form of gov- 
ernment, and no energy to change the ruler. The Capitan did not 
rob his people, for they had nothing worth his taking ; the people 
did not envy their king, for he was poor as themselves. Luxury 
and its attendant vices they knew not— their land sufficed but for a 
bare existence ; and unchastity was so rare as to be looked upon as 
a monstrous phenomenon. But their chastity resulted from a lack 
of aggressive energy, and a sexual coldness with which kind nature 
ever blesses an illy nourished and decaying race. No military am- 
bition disturbed the placid current of their lives; they scarcely knew 
how to defend themselves against their savage neighbors, and retir- 
ing to these rock-defended flistnesses, had left the open country to 
their foes. 

"Then I saw that energy is evolved only in conflict; that a vigor- 
ous combat with evil develops the individual, and that a state from 
which ambition should be banished to leave the citizen free from 
conflict, would be a state in which moral vigor would in turn decay, 
and social stagnation, as a living tomb, swallow up tlie proudest prod- 
ucts of the march of mind. With these people one day passed as 
another. Whether they had a belief in immortality I could never 
learn ; but they might well ignore it, since even in this world they 
were dead already. Beyond the narrow horizon of tlieir hills, they 



80 WESTFAiN WILDS. 

saw nothing; tin's basin was to them the world. Ambition had no 
place in their dull emotions, and though central to a do/cn warring 
tribes, they were simple, civil and unwarlike. 

"One year I abode with these people. It was rest; but for a life- 
time — ah, that would be consignment to a living tomb! But Gomez 
returned, and with a message from Dolores. There was peace at last ; 
the captive Tejanos had been released, and I might safely return. 
The journey was a long reverie of delightful anticipation. The meet- 
ing I leave you to imagine. But all was not well; Colonel AVarfield 
and his brave companions had been released, and many Americans 
were coming into Santa Fe ; but the Mexican authorities felt that 
peace was temporary, and armed parties still hovered along the front- 
ier. AVe scarcely seemed nearer the fruition of our hopes, and 
months of weary waiting were yet before us. Her father — but I need 
not tell you of Castilian pride. He was of the gcnte fna of New 
Mexico, and, boasting of his saugrc azul, an alliance with an unknown 
foreigner would have seemed to him worse than her death. I urged 
immediate flight; that we would seek the States, and there remain till 
permanent peace should allow us to return and settle in IMexico, as I 
hojied — after the manner of sanguine youth — we might soon do with the 
wealth that I should earn. I abode at the adjacent pueblo, and as 
often as possible saw and conferred with Dolores, never failing to 
urge immediate flight. I need not recount the progress I made, if 
you know aught of the female heart. She yielded, and in the midst 
of all my distractions and uncertainties, I thought myself the happiest 
of men. We were to set out the first opportunity. The distance was 
great, and no guide to be had. In vain I sought for one in the 
pueblo; the honest fellows shook their heads. In their own country, 
among their own people, they were at my service, but not among los 
Americanos, los diabolos Gringos ! AVe could not retreat from our 
project. Before a Pueblo priest we plighted our faith, and thus united 
in life and death, set out upon our northward route. One Pueblo 
accompanied us the first night and till noon the next day; then point- 
ing out our safest route — along the higher part of the plateau to avoid 
Mexican scouts — bade us farewell, and we were alone upon the iicrra 
iemplada. 

"The route led to a water-hole, where we paused exhausted, and 
remained till midnight. Thence we rose to a dim trail higher up the 
rocky slope, and toiled on till late next afternoon, when fiitigue and 
fear for our animals again compelled us to stop. A long rest, and 
then on to the next pool, which we reached late at night, and soon 



DOLORES. 81 

sank into a profound sleep. When we awoke late next morning, the 
scene had changed. A dense mist, rare at that season, hung upon the 
mountains, and heavy clouds drifted eastward over the plain. Never- 
theless, I marked what I thought the right course, and we traveled 
on. Before noon we were bewildered among the projecting ridges, 
where the trail was obscured upon the rocky flats, and ere long 
were completely lost. 

" Should we descend to the lower plain for a shorter route, or turn 
toward the mountains to be sure of grass and water? I determined 
to continue a due north course as far as possible, trusting either to 
come again upon the trail, or find water in some of the limestone 
'pockets,' which occur here and there even in the red sand hills. By 
noon the water in the canteens I had provided was nauseating, having 
been almost stagnant when taken from the pool ; before the next 
morning it was all gone, while our animals gave unmistakable signs 
of approaching exhaustion. Still we pressed on. It was now mid 
August, and the hot, dry season was at its worst. The bunch-grass 
was dried to a coppery hue, and though it nourished our animals, they 
must have water also. The stinging plants and thorny cactus con- 
stantly impeded our way, and we soon came to regard the broad flats 
of bare rock as a glad relief. But water, water we must have. 1 
was then too ignorant of wood-craft to know that in the Rockv 
Mountains one hunts up-hill for water instead of down upon t^s 
plain ; and felt keenly my need of that sixth sense wherewith thfi 
Indian and plainsman can discern the locality of a brook or pool by 
the appearance of surrounding hills or vegetation. 

"Night drew on. There was a 
dead calm and oppressive air. The 
animals at length refused to move 
a step further, and I had barely time 
to spring from my saddle and receive 
her, when Dolores fainted in my 
arms. For a moment my agony was 
terrible — the agony at once of fear 
and indecision. But in a moment " boi.okes fainted in my arms." 

fierce energy returned; I raised her, recalled her to consciousness, and 
now leading, now carrying her, toiled up and over the rocks to the 
mouth of a gorge that opened upon the side of a precipice a thousand 
feet above. Why, I scarcely knew, but had a vague hope of protection 
and rest in the defile. Night came on suddenly, and its coolness greatly 
revived us. We had as yet suffered little with actual thirst, and when 
6 




82 WESTERN WILDS. 

our first trouble was passed, sank to sleep upon a sand-heap at the 
base of an immense rock. Soon after midnight we awoke stiff M'ith 
cold, and now beginning to feel the sharper prom])tings of thirst, I 
proposed to search for water down the canon, but on turning we saw 
our animals, like us revived by the night air, slowly making their way 
up the dry arroyo, as if they would seek relief near its head. Some- 
thing in this manifestation of instinct decided me. The arroyo showed 
plainly that at some seasons it contained a large stream ; might there 
not remain a little near its source? 

" For hours we toiled on up the dry channel, soon leaving the animals 
far behind; now stumbling over the immense stones which choked the 
dry bed, and now searching every clump of grass that showed the 
faintest tinge of green. The sun rose red and fiery, the air was filled 
with light haze, and another sultry day began. But with every 
hour's advance new signs encouraged us : there were clumps of 
dwarfish pines, and occasionally a shrub of other timber ; the grass 
in places had an unmistakably green tinge, and occasional tracks 
showed that various small animals habitually made this passage. But 
every moment our thirst increased. I glanced at Dolores; her eyes 
gleamed with that unwholesome fire which is the precursor of delirium. 
I felt my own head grow giddy; my eyes were so dry it seemed I 
could feel the balls grate as they turned in their sockets; my tongue 
was swollen, my lips cracked, and I spoke with difficulty. Hastily 
seeking the shade of an immense rock, I broke some splinters from a 
mountain pine ; these, rolled about in the mouth, soon created a moist- 
ure, which sensibly relieved our sufferings, and again we toiled on. 

" It was now noon. The hot sun glared upon the white sand and red 
rocks, and our sufferings rapidly increased. Almost exhausted, I hap- 
pened to turn my gaze down the canon, and saw our animals fiir below, 
still feebly struggling up the ascent. The sight gave me renewed hope, 
and, with fierce energy, I rushed from side to side of the gorge, seareh- 
'ing every spot that bore signs of the presence of moisture ; but in vain. 
An hour longer we toiled on, then Dolores suddenly reeled, and sank, 
apparently lifeless, in my arms. With loud cries, I bore her hastily to 
the shade of a projecting rock; I chafed her hands, and implored her 
to look up and live. She revived, only to relapse into a half-dead 
condition, scarcely sensible of my presence, but babbling in Spanish 
of green fields and the cool brooks about her home. I pressed her to 
my heart, and prayed that death might come at once and end our in- 
tolerable sufferings. An hour passed thus, then suddenly we seemed 
to revive again — Dolores with alternate sobs and hysterical laughter, 



DOLORES. 83 

and I with renewed determination to push on. Soon we sank into 
half-unconsciousness, and again revived as suddenly, but with all the 
pangs of thirst and fatigue greater than before. Slowly this anguish 
receded, and we sank into a condition of almost complete exemjition 
from suffering, to again revive as suddenly to fiercer pangs. 

" But this time my vision seemed strangely cleared. The agony 
yielded to a dull pain, that left me power to think. I saw all the 
beauties of the landscape in a new light, and gazed on them with act- 
ual interest, while I pitied and blamed myself for such a feeling. I 
saw a mountain bluebird flit rapidly over the gorge, and wondered 
where he was flying and what for; then laughed loud and long at my- 
self for such untimely curiosity. I noticed a hillock of the desert ants 
near me, from which the red nation was pouring by hundreds, and a 
sand-toad near them ; then I remembered that these creatures avoid 
damp spots, where water is liable to percolate, and again the wild 
gorge rang with my fierce laughter at their strange habits. I saw a 
lean coyote steal across the canon below us, and wondered what he was 
doing so far up in the hills, and why he had not remained on the 
plains, as usual, and whether he was lost and hunting for water; then 
the absurdity of this conceit struck me, and I made what I thought a 
very witty jest at his leanness, and laughed at my own wit till the 
canon rang again. Suddenly I came to myself, and stared around me ; 
then my gaze fell on Dolores, lying full length upon the sand, and 
breathing heavily, and all my fierce energy returned. I raised her 
with unnatural strength, fairly bounded up the caiion several rods, and 
laid her at the foot of another rock. Again and again I repeated this, 
one moment kissing her lips and vowing to save her, the next laughing 
at my temporary fits of strength. At last I laid her in a cool depres- 
sion at the foot of a cliff*, which seemed to have been split by some 
convulsion, and, for a space, relapsed iftto insensibility. 

" When I revived, the cool night had come again, and Dolores was 
sitting by me, clasping my hand. Such was the reviving effect of the 
night air, now sweeping down the canon with a strong breeze, that we 
were greatly refreshed, and, after a sad, sweet interchange of thought, 
sank into a troubled sleep. Again we waked suddenly, almost at the 
same moment, and again the pangs of thirst were ujjon us in all their 
fury. Nature has still some mercy, even at her worst, and though a 
man die in torture, for want of food or drink, she secures him intervals 
of perfect rest from pain. But ftow our sufferings were at their worst. 
Mere abstinence from water for two days would not have produced 
such effects, but for our continued exertions. The cold night air pre- 



84 WESTERN WILDS. 

vented delirium. I put out my hand to assure Dolores of my presence^ 
M-hen — was it possible? Did I feel an actual moisture at the base of 
tlie cliif, or was it only the cold, dry sand? Fiercely I scratched away 
the first few inches of the loose surface — eagerly I thrust my fingers into 
the packed dirt and gravel, and tore my nails digging beside the rock. 
Yes, it Avas unmistakable; there icas moisture there, and somewhere 
above it there was water ! 

"New life animated me. I followed the line of moisture alonjr the 
base of the rock; it suddenly ceased, and my heart stood still. An in- 
stant more, and I perceived that I had passed the immense fissure which 
split the cliff; in it I again found \\\c moist trace. I followed it a few 
rods, and perceived that the formation had changed to limestone. Joy 
overcame me. I screamed aloud, and burst into tears. Every yard 
that I advanced up the fissure the earth grew more moist. Presently 
I could squeeze a few dirty drops from a handful into my mouth. 
Great Jupiter! Was Olympian nectar ever so sweet? A few rods 
more and there w^s dank green grass, its matted roots sodden with mud 
and water. Eagerly I sucked the divine fluid, then tore up a few 
handfuls and hastened with it to Dolores. Squeezing the scant drops 
into her mouth, and spreading the grass roots upon her brow, I soon 
had the exquisite joy of seeing her raise her head and smile. I took 
her in my arms and bore her to the damp grass-plat; then, foot by foot, 
on our knees, we searched the narrow ravine. Soon we came to where 
a few tiny drops trickled over a mossy stone. With our lips pressed to 
the rock, we drew new life from it. For an hour we alternately sucked 
at this source, and cheered each other — she calling upon the Virgin, and 
blessing all the saints by turns, I rejoicing at the happy operations of 
nature which gave us water in this strange place. 

" Our worst tortures past, fatigue again conquered us. AVe sank into 
a sound sleep, and did not wake till the morning light fell upon our 
faces. I then saw that the line of green grass continued up the nar- 
row gorge, and, following it for two hours, we came upon a pool of 
cold, clear water. Did you ever, after hours of toil across the desert, 
come upon one of those lime-rock springs, which alone make life possi- 
ble in the far South-west? If so, you know their wonderful beauty; 
you can imagine our joy. Around were the yellow and striped mount- 
ains, seamed and scarred as if by a million years of storm and light- 
ning; below, the cliff-walled caiion, now filled with the hot and stag- 
nant air of mid-day, and beyond it the dry sands and treeless desert. 
Here was a cool spring, central to a little oasis, where the bright fluid 
bubbled forth from the earth, and dripped o'er the rocks in tiny, cool 



DOLORES. 85 

rivulets — where rank, green grass hung over the brim of the pool, and 
strange, bright flowers spoke of life, and love, and hope. 

"A day's rest was imperative, and as soon as possible I filled my can- 
teens and hastened back to find our horses. They had toiled on till 
morning; then one had fallen exhausted, while the otlier had halted 
in the shadow of a cliff, barely able to stand. A canteen full of watei-, 
M'hich he drank from my Mexican sombrero, greatly revived him, l)ut 
the other was past hope. I succeeded in getting the one to tlie mouth 
of the gorge, and after a dozen trips for water, he was so far restored 
as to graze upon the bunch-grass. Next morning we set out again, 
now with but one horse, and late the next night, having found the 
trail, reached the water-hole, which was to have been our stopping 
place the day we were lost. There we again rested a day, which so 
far restored the animal that he was able to carry Dolores and our 
little stock of jDrovisions, as fast as I could walk beside him. Again we 
journeyed on, turning aside at night into a caiion, and keeping near the 
base of the mountains by day. Once past the divide of the tierra tan- 
plada and upon the slopes leading down to the Arkansas, water-holes 
could be found three or four times every day. Our progress was now 
encouragingly rapid, and in due time we turned the last point on the 
mountain trail, and with a glad shout hailed the yellow Arkansas. 
Another day, and we 
should be on American 
soil ; the land would be 
better watered, my gun 
would supply us with 
game, and we might trav- 
el more leisurely. 

" We turned eastward 
and down to the plain, 

i I J.1 • "the balls \\li.feTLED AROUND US." 

to reach the main cross- 
ing on the Santa Fe trail, and late the next day, while our hearts beat 
high with satisfaction, descended to the sandy border of the Ar- 
kansas. A shout was borne to our ears from the heights behind, and 
turning, we saw a party of mounted Mexicans rapidly nearing us. 
For an instant our hearts stood still with fear; the next I bounded 
on the horse in front of Dolores, and urged him fiercely forward. 
I remembered with agony that I had no traders' permit from the 
Spanish authorities, and could give no plausible explanation of my 
condition; capture might mean death, it would certainly mean loss 
of Dolores. Soon we were in the middle of the stream, at that 




86 WESTERN WILDS, 

season not too deep for fording; but our pursuers gained fast upon 
us. As we ncared the American shore they reached the opposite 
bank, and with a yell of rage at being foiled, discharged a volley 
from their scoupetas. The balls whistled around us; I only noted 
that the animal did not fall, then spurred him on, and in another 
moment he scrambled up to the northern bank, and we w^ere safe 
upon American soil. 

'* Safe ! Oh, merciful powers, why had ^VQ- not an hour more in the 
start? Why had we come safely through such perils only to part 
when our haven was won ? Dolores' arm tightened about my waist — 
she did not speak. I turned with a glad smile, a word of love and 
cheer upon my lips. She was deadly pale, and I had barely time to 
dismount, when she fliinted in my arms. A shot had entered her 

gjrlp 5}; ^ ^ ^ >K 5K 

" But anguish was unavailing. There was no time for regrets. Cold 
water, rest and shade were imperative. Clasping her in my arms, I 
bounded up the rocks, and laid her by a little pool at the foot of the 
cliif. I dashed the water upon her face and loosed her clothing. 
She revived: 

" ' Holy Virgin, spare him, guide and protect him.' 
" There was no word for herself. Then starting up fiercely : 
" ' The padre ! The padre ! Bring the padre ! ' she exclaimed. 
Then recollecting : ' No, it is too late ! too late ! ' 

" My agony was terrible. I wrung her hands, and implored her to 
live. My wife, my dear wdfe, wdth whom I had shared so many perils, 
who had saved my life; must she lose her own by following me? must 
she die here when we were beyond danger? 

" She soon revived and gave me hope. For a few moments we con- 
versed, and a thrill of delight shook my frame when she spoke and 
smiled. But it was brief She felt no pain ; her hurt was unto death. 
Soon her eye grew dim. She drew a small crucifix from her bosom, 
and held it before her face, while she clasped my hand. Her glazing 
eve was fixed upon the emblem: 

" ' Oh, Sancta 3Iaria ! — ra — pro — no — bis / ' 

" I took her in my arms. She glanced at me — speechless, with an 
ineffable smile— pointed upward, and was gone. * * It was night, 
but I still held her in my arms. I could not consent. I would not 
have it so ; she was mine ; I would not yield her to death. * * * 
Then, laying her on the grass, I raved, prayed and cursed by turns. 

" Morning found me still there, but exhausted. The first fierce 
agonv of grief had yielded to a dull pain, which seemed unending. 



DOLORES. <S7 

Farther up in the foot-hills I found a secludetl cove, walled in by 
precipitous rocks and beautiful with bright-hued mountain flowers; 
and there, with my hunting-knife, I dug her grave. Taking one tress 
from her dark hair, I laid her to rest, then wandered away in the 
mountains, careless what became of me. The buds of the mountain 
rose, with a few raspberries, were my only food for days ; often I pon- 
dered Avhether I should not abandon exertion, and yield a life which 
was worth so little. But life is sweet, and youth does not easily sur- 
render it. 

"The fifth day, I was found by a party of hunters, Avho took me 
to Fort Lancaster, where I was received as one risen from the dead. 
The mountain fever, natural result of my toils and sufferings, now 
prostrated me, and for weeks I hovered between life and death. 
The late autumn saw me again abroad, and with returning strength 
came a desire for vengeance. I sought the capital of Texas to 
take arms against the Mexicans, but a sort of peace had been made. 
Dissatisfied, restless, but with my yearning for revenge not quite 
gone, I drifted eastward and through the State of Louisiana. In 
the spring of 1846 I descended Red River to New Orleans. Retir- 
ing late the night of my arrival, and utterly ignorant of what had 
occurred among nations for many months, in the morning I was 
Avakened by the noise of fife and drum, by the yells of a multitude 
in the streets, and the long resonant cry of a recruiting agent: 

"'Turn out! Turn out! all you who are willing to fight for your 
country ! General Taylor is surrounded, and in all probability cut 
to pieces, but come on and take revenge out of the d — d Mexicans ! ' 

"I was mad with joy. Without breakfast, and scarcely more than 
half dressed, I ran into the street, and was soon in the ranks of the 
recruits. The old cannon of 1812 w^ere brought out and thundered 
through the city ; thousands, tens of thousands thronged the streets, 
with loud cries for country and vengeance, and before the next night 
a full regiment was ready to embark. The incoming boat from 
Matamoras brought news that, instead of being ' cut to pieces,' your 
general had really been victorious at Palo Alto and Resaca de la 
Paima ; but there was no cessation in the excitement and the volun- 
teering. In a wonderfully short time our little command was on the 
Rio Grande. But there was a long period of inaction, and before it 
ended, I, with many others, was transferred to the army near Vera 
Cruz. Then there was action enough. 

" At Cerro Gordo, Cherubusco, Chepultepec, in a dozen fierce en- 
counters, I sought death where others fell, but found it not. I stood 



88 WESTERN WILDS. 

amid smoke and carnage, and saw my companions fall on all sides; 
I marched where shells plowed the earth and swords gleamed 
in the air, bnt passed them all and lived. But the storm which 
brought death to others, brought a strange quiet to me. I saw so 
much death that it reconciled me to life; I saw such suffering among 
the poor people we had come to fight, that pity took the place of 
hate, and I grew ashamed of my thoughts of vengeance. The regi- 
ment to which I belonged was the first to be discharged. Then a 
longing grew upon me to revisit my native land, and early in 1848 
I took passage for Havre. But I reached Geneva only to iind all 
Europe rocking with revolution. Storms and tumult were to be my 
element; I might change my sky, I could not change my destiny. 

"It was the year of revolution. France ejected Louis Philippe; 
Berlin followed in a few days with the students' insurrection, and 
the capture of the palace ; the Viennese were soon in arms ; Hun- 
gary struggled bravely against perfidious Austria ; even the long 
enslaved Italians rose against Carlo Alberto, arid little Baden dared 
the anger of Prussia. In vain the tears and prayers of my mother, 
in vain the caresses of my sisters and nieces, or the calm arguments 
of my father; they had found me only to lose me at once. I hur- 
ried to join the Badenischen insurgents, then hastily organizing 
against the Prussian regulars. For awhile all went well. It seemed 
that man was at last to be free. But our triumphing was short. 
France took another Napoleon ; the troops fired on the Berlin 
patriots; Wiindischgratz bombarded Vienna; Gorgey surrendered 
without a battle, and the little band under Kossuth, driven to the 
inhospitable plains of inner Hungary, succumbed to the mongrel 
hordes of Cossack, Sclav, and Carpathian, poured upon them by the 
Kussian Czar. The Badenischen army, too, retreated, and the revo- 
lutionists mostly sought the New World. The best blood of the 
fatherland was expelled, and Germany's loss became America's gain. 

"With many others I was captured; but, unlike them, I was a 
citizen of no country, and could claim no protection or ask no 
clemency. Four long years I languished in a German prison. Need 
1 recall the lonesome hours? The days of unavailing struggle with 
myself; the nights of restless tossing, or sleep haunted by dreams 
of the dead. Daily I watched the gleam of yellow light breaking 
in through the little grating above my head, slowly moving around 
the walls of my dungeon, and dying away at last on the opposite 
side. The daily passage of that ray was my only relic of a bright 
past, my all of life, of light, of lil)erty. Nightly I sought relief by 



DOLORES. 89 

thoughts that reached beyond the tomb ; the dim rays of natural 
reb'gion barely gave a gleam of hope that Dolores still lived in 
another sphere — they might feebly cheer, they could not guide me. 
And even as I recalled that nightly hope, or watched that daily ray, 
I ultimately resigned myself to look for happiness only beyond the 
grave, or nursed the hope of liberty and revenge. Ah ! could I 
escape, I would raise a band of dead hearts like mine and wage in- 
expiable war ou kings. 

" At last all hope died out. Even the desire for vengeance died. 
I was conscious only of a dull pain. The memory of the dead 
seemed as a dream of long forgotten years ; and when I spoke, as 
sometimes I did, aloud, my own voice jarred on my ear. For two 
years the jailer who brought my food was all I saw; then for awhile 
I had a companion in captivity. But we said little ; confinement 
had deadened the social instincts. We talked neither of the strujr- 
gles of the past, nor of hope for the future ; our hearts had died in 
the awful solitude. Without passing through death, we were inmates 
of the tomb. 

"Why I M'as released finally I never knew. But I was, with all 
the others, probably because all danger of insurrection was past, and 
the government regarded us with contempt. But I came into the 
world as not of it. My father had died late in '48 ; my mother, 
worn with grief, had soon followed him ; my sisters had married 
even before my return from America, and other cares and other 
loves filled their hearts. Worse than all, liberty was dead. France, 
Germany, Italy, Hungary, had yielded again to despots; I saw no 
hope for the rights of man. Again I sought the Rocky Mountains, 
whose majestic scenery brought balm to my wounded heart. I have 
learned that he who yields to fierce impulses or excessive feeling, 
does so but to lay bai^e his soul to a thousand strokes ; that he who 
would move faster than his age, will soon be alone with sorrow, and 
that the Brotherhood of Man comes not by spasmodic struggles, but 
by steady toil. 

" Here, where my misery began, in communion witli mighty 
nature I find peace. The memory of Dolores has become a mild 
joy ; her image is ever present to cheer me. The thought of our 
affection has become a sort of religion. Near where I found and 
lost her, I best love to dwell, and every returning autumn finds me 
a pilgrim to the little mountain glen that contains her grave." 



CHAPTER YI. 



POLYGAMIA. 



Turn back the wheels of time, imaginative reader, from 1874 to the 
autumn of 18G8, and allow the author to resume his personal narrative. 
The first storm of the season had just tijjped the summits of the 
Wasatch with light snow, while summer still smiled upon the valleys, 
when our train wound slowly through Parley's Cailon, and emerged 
upon the eastern " bench," from which I obtained my first view of the 

Mormon Capital. The city stands 
at the north-east corner of a valley 
shaped like a horse-shoe — the 
Wasatch the eastern boundary, 
the Oquirrah the western, and the 
lake lying to the north-west across 
the open end. A small spur puts 
out westwardly from the Wasatch, 
and breaks down in successive 
"benches" to the upper part of 
the city ; out of it flow City Creek 
and several smaller streams, and 
along its base bubble up hot chem- 
ical springs and fountains of pure 
brine. 

The topography is Palestine re- 
produced. We have Lake Utah, a fresh water mountain tarn, dis- 
charging through the Jordan into another Dead Sea — the Crreat Salt 
Lake. Along the Jordan extends a fertile but narrow valley, its 
widest section near the city; all around are mountains, and beyond 
those mountains long desert wastes, with only here and there a fertile 
spot. North of Salt Lake City numerous coves indent the mountains; 
in each is a small fertile tract and a Mormon settlement, while south- 
ward, for four hundred miles, is a series of narrow, fan-shaped valleys 
settled in like manner. 

I found the city a nice place to rest in, especially in September; and 
after a journey of eight hundred miles over barren plains, like all vis- 

(90) \ 




BRIGHAM YOUNG. 



POLYGAMIA. 



91 



itors, I exaggerated its beauty. There was first the morning Avalk in 
the dry, bracing air, then a plunge in the warm-spring bath, and an 
indulgence in the luscious Salt Lake peaches, after which the day was 
devoted to iijvestigating Mormonism. I called upon all the INIormon 
worthies. First upon Orson Pratt, solitary as the only man of learning 
in the Church, and that learning singularly one-sided. At once a fa- 
natic and a mathematician (unique combination), he has devoted a life- 
time of labor and sacrifice to perverting the Scripture, in the vain at- 
tempt to bring back the modern world to the social system of the Asiat- 
ics, and a worse than Jewish theocracy. 

At once the poorest, proudest, most learned, and most devoted of 
the elders, he is also the worst 
snubbed by Brigham Young, 
who has often taken a vulgar 
delight in humbling the man 
whose culture and scholarship 
he can not forgive. "While he 
is systematically ignored in the 
government of the Church, yet 
when the Tabernacle has an 
array of Eastern visitors, he 
is invariably put up to defend 
the doctrines of Joe Smith and 
Brigham; and so, while best 
known to the world of any man 
in Brigham's kingdom, he is 
constantly in trouble, and some- 
times on the ragged edge of 
starvation. In early life he 
was a man of action — a traveling missionary, eloquent in the cause and 
full of zeal, a successful preacher, and voluminous writer; now he is a 
dreaming astronomer, whose head is among the stars. 

Later I met W. H. Hooper, monogamous delegate in Congress 
from this polygamous territory, a man for whom I at first entertained 
some respect, but learned to distrust by reason of his action in regard 
to the Mountain Meadow murderers. A Marylander of the old type, 
native of the " eastern shore," first a merchant's clerk and then cap- 
tain of a Mississippi steamer, he started across the plains in 1850 on 
a business venture ; but on arriving in Utah found a Mormon wife 
and an appropriate mission, as the plausible go-between to do Brig- 
ham's work amons; Gentile law-makers. It is not nossible that a 




OKSON PRATT. 



92 



WESTERN WILDS. 



man of liis mental make-up ever believed Mormonism ; the more rea- 
sonable supposition is that he, like many other leaders of this people, 
holds all religions in equal indifference, but finds his account in 
this one, and is willing the Church should run along as comfortably 
as may be, while he accumulates wealth and takes physical comfort. 
The husband of but one wife, he has never held ecclesiastical position 
in the Church, but has been remarkably useful during many years 
service at Washington. In 1872, Brigham concluded that a polyga- 
mous people ought to be represented by a polygamist, and accordingly 
sent George Q. Cannon, the four-wived apostle, to Washington. Con- 
gress, which expelled Bowen for having two wives, admitted Cannon 
Avith four, and Hooper returned to his store and bank. As all things 
spiritual are in doubt, any man is excusable for believing any relig- 
ion; but we can barely excuse one who, in mere indifference, pro- 
fesses belief in the worst imposture of the age. 

My best interview was with 
George A. Smith, full cousin 
to the original Joe, and then 
an apostle, but a little later 
chosen in full conference to 
the place of Heber C. Kim- 
ball, deceased, as First Coun- 
cilor to Brigham Young. 
This man was long known 
among Gentiles as the most 
gorgeous liar in the Rocky 
Mountains. He had four 
sermons, usually selecting the 
one most fitting to the occa- 
sion ; and recited the history 
of the Church with such an 
ingenious mixture of fact and 
fiction, that his dazed hearers 
accepted the whole as gospel. In his narrative, Mormonism had a 
roll of martyrs longer than that of the primitive church, and an array 
of miracles which quite put the Mosaic record in the background. 
Of sanguine temperament, easily believing every thing that made for 
the glory of ISIormonism, and throwing off Avitli equal ease whatever 
might have suggested doubt to an earnest thinker, fully persuaded of 
the Mormon doctrine, that it was right to deceive for the good of the 
Church, and with a brilliant imagination, that made him believe any 




GEORGE A. SMITH. 



POLYGAMIA. 93 

thing lie had told three times, he was by nature well fitted for the 
place he had occupied from the first — that of Church Historian. 

To him all doubtful points in Mormon annals were referred as to 
an infallible oracle. When Gentile visitors to the tabernacle were 
to be impressed, he stood next to Orson Pratt, and when doubtfid 
questions were to be settled in favor of Brigham's pet designs, he 
found a precedent or made one with equal readiness. He consist- 
ently believed and taught that it was the duty of the Mormon laity 
" to be as a tallowed rag in the hands of the priesthood ; " of each 
order of the priesthood to yield implicit obedience to their superiors 
next in rank; and of all orders, to be subject to the lightest command 
of their divinely appointed leader, Brigham Young. To the last of 
his life he obeyed Brigham's lightest request, and died in the confi- 
dent faith that he could only enter heaven on Brigham's voucher, 
properly indorsed by Joseph Smith. To such depths of abasement 
may the heaven-born intellect sink. He was succeeded as First 
Councilor by Brigham's son, "Johnnie" Young; for it is one of 
the "first principles of the gospel" as known in Utah, that all power 
is to be kept concentrated in the hands of the Smiths and Youngs. 

Daniel H. Wells was then, and is now, Brigham's Second Councilor, 
these three constituting the First Presidency of the Church, and having 
the right of final decision on all appeals from the lower priesthood, of 
whatever branch. Wells is, by popular election and "Divine ap- 
pointment," a Prophet and a Squire, a Mayor and a President, a 
Lieutenant-General and the husband of five wives. He is a tall, an- 
gular and most ungainly Saint, whose face and head bear involuntary 
witness to the truth of Darwinism. Borrowing a term from dime- 
novel literature, the Gentiles style him " The one-eyed pirate of the 
AVasatch." Long acquaintance with his career has only confirmed 
my first impression of him: he is the most dangerous man in the 
priesthood. The others are mostly impostors ; he believes it, bloody 
doctrines and all. Had he held the reins from 1870 till 1873, he 
Avould have precipitated a savage conflict, and the end would have 
been — Mormonism drowned in blood, as was the Anabaptist schism, 
or a new development and fresh lease of life on the cry of " persecu- 
tion." It is well that he has small chance of succeeding Brigham ; 
so much more dangerous is a fanatic than an impostor. 

Brigham Young I did not see or converse with till some time 
after, but was for many years familiar with his appearance in the 
pulpit. Physically, the man is as near perfect as is ever allowed to 
one of Qur wretchedly developed race. Six feet high and uncom- 



94 WESTERN WILDS. 

aionly well muscled, he is yet so compactly built that strangers in- 
variably pronounce him smaller than he is ; and one Avho first sees 
him step out of his carriage on Main Street, clad in his short, gray 
business coat, is apt to speak of him as " dumpy." He measures 
forty-four inches around the chest, and weighs at least two hundred 
pounds ; his hands and feet are rather large, his head extremely so, 
and very broad across the base, sloping thence before and behind 
toward the crown. With very light or golden hair, a cold, glitter- 
ing blue eye and a massive under-jaw that shuts like a vice, he has 
the firmness and vigor that usually consist with such an organiza- 
tion, and that happy mixture of the sanguine and bilious tempera- 
ments which makes one easily believe himself a man of destiny. Of 
the hardiest Vermont stock, he Avas put up by nature to last a hundred 
and twenty years, but hardships and the worry of governing have 
shortened his life from twenty to forty years, and he may die any- 
where between eighty and a hundred, retaining possession of his fac- 
ulties and growing more tyrannical and avaricious to the last. 

Not at all a talented man in the common sense of the word, his 
power is largely the result of his immense physical potency. His 
physique is one that makes a man do and dare, and then take the 
results of that doing and daring as marks of divine favor. Even 
sneering unbelievers who shake hands with him feel the impress of 
his magnetic potentiality, nor is it pleasant to face him with the con- 
sciousness that one is his enemy. Many an apostate can bear wit- 
ness that long after being convinced that Mormonism was a hollow 
fraud, which he ought to abandon, and could abandon without 
danger, he still felt a grievous dread of standing up in the "School 
of the Prophets" to face the wrath of Brigham Young. To women 
of the uncultured and impressible sort, such a man is often as fas- 
cinating as a gentle and purring lion: one with all power in reserve 
to be exercised only for them and upon their enemies. Even a few 
non-j\[ormon women have confessed a mild admiration for this mass 
of power, and at least two Gentile ladies have so far forgotten them- 
selves as to write in fulsome praise of a man whose very existence is 
a standing insult to womanhood. Such resisect hath great native 
power and virile force. 

Before an audience in sympathy with him he is an effective speaker; 
he can, by a series of strong, nervous appeals, carry them along to 
almost any pitch of excitement, and commit them, by voice and vote, 
to almost any absurdity. Add a ready command of language, albeit 
the vernacular of an uneducated Vermonter, and rare powers as a 



POL YGAMIA. 



9o 



mimic, and we have the secret of Brigham's strength as an orator. 
Of eloqnence he has none whatever; before a cultured or critical 
audience he would be a hopeless failure. Whatever greatness he has, 
finds its source in his splendid physical organization. Thence is his 
energy, his invincible will, his iron disregard of the sufferings of 
others — the qualities that have made him. His was also the rare 
good fortune to fall just at the right time into just the right place for 
his peculiar talents; for it is scarcely possible that in the ordinary 
pursuits of life he would have made more than ordinary success. 
The accident of one man's death and the apostasy of two others, made 
him President of the Twelve Apostles just before Joe Smitli's death; 
after that event, there was none to oppose him save the flighty and un- 
reliable Sidney Rigdon, whom the Mormons had never trusted, and so 
Brigham necessarily became head of the Church. 




BKIGHAM'S RESIDENCES. 



It is a noteworthy fact that in almost every scheme Brigham has 
undertaken, except managing the Mormons, he has completely failed. 
His Colorado warehouses, beet-sugar factories, Cottonwood Canal, B. 
Y. Express, and hand-cart emigration scheme, one and all, proved dis- 
astrous failures, the last resulting in three hundred deaths, and the 
most frightful suflPering. Similarly every colony Brigham has sent to 
the surrounding territories has finally been abandoned as a failure, 
from Lemhi, on the north, to San Bernardino, on the south. Not a 
few look forward to his death as a great aid to the disintegration of 
Mormondom ; his continued life will do far more in that direction. 
When he took command of the Mormons they had, according to their 
own accounts, over 200,000 members in all the world ; now they num- 



96 WESTERN WILDS. 

ber less than half as many. They submitted all to him, and he iias 
spent thirty years in teaching them the terrors of a religious despot- 
ism. Thousands have learned that it is easy to surrender rights, but 
hard to regain them. At first he only robbed his devotees, now 
he insults them. A few more years of power and he will, to quote the 
language of a Mormon, " hitch them up and plow the ground with 
them." 

Many intelligent men have concluded that Brigham was honest 
in his religious professions. I can not agree with them. I might 
reject all other evidence of his hypocrisy, but I can not reject his 
own. Again and again he has virtually admitted that his religion 
was a mere convenience. To a young Mormon friend of the writer, 
whom he was urging to return to the fold, Brigham said : ''It makes 
no difference whether you believe in it or not; we need you; just 
come along and be baptized, and pay up a little on your tithing, and 
it will be all right." To another he said : " It's no great concern 
what you believe ; I 've got as good a right to start a new religion 
as Christ or Mohammed, or any other man." And yet again, when 
speaking of the vote of each semi-annual conference indorsing him 
as a propliet, he said; "I am neither a prophet nor the son of a 
prophet, but I have been profitable to this people." Since then the 
Gentiles have usually designated him " The Profit," There was a 
time, I think, when he believed his religion and worked hard for 
it; but as he rose in the Church he learned more, and became what 
he practically describes himself, a philosophic infidel. A man whose 
convictions depend largely on his interests, with a happy power of 
self-deception, a great deal of cunning, some executive ability, and 
behind it all an immense physical potency, with little mercy or con- 
science to temper it — such, in brief, is Brigham Young. 

Late in September, I took a walk to Bear River Canon, some 
eighty miles north of the city, stopping often with the rural Saints 
and noting their ways. This trip was through the most enlightened 
part of Utah, almost the only part the Eastern tourist ever sees. 
The villages are neat and quiet, and the little fiirms well watered 
and cultivated. But even here the great lack is apparent. The 
Saints have adopted the bee as their emblem, and have stopped 
with the blind instincts of the bee — content with food and shelter, 
with but little regard for the higher man. Near Ogden was an 
old Dane, living with a mother and two daughters as wives ; in 
Brigham City lived a bishop, married to two of his own nieces, and 
near Bear River was another Dane, living with three wives in a 



POLYGAMIA. 97 

c^abin not large enough to make one comfortable. Such cases were 
my first select specimens of the practical operations of the " Celes- 
tial Law." As this was but one of many journeys I made in 
Utah, a few general notes on the topography will be in order. 

The Wasatch Mountains on the east, and Sierra Nevada on the 
west, like the two sides of a ( ), inclose a region known as the 
Great Basin, in which nature appears to have worked on a dif- 
ferent plan from that pursued in the rest of the country. All the 
streams run towards the center, none towards the sea; a river is 
larger at the head than at the mouth — when it has a mouth — very 
few of the lakes have any outlet, and, with rare exceptions, both 
pools and lakes are bitter with salt, iron, lime, or alkali. From 
the mountains which form the rim of the Great Basin, sub-ranges 
successively fall off towards the center, and the whole interior plain 
is an almost unbroken desert. But from the Wasatch and Sierras 
many streams put out towards the center, and, at the points where 
they leave the mountains, are bordered by little fan-shaped valleys. 
These constitute all the cultivable land in the Basin ; the rest is 
fit only for timber or grazing, or is totally barren. Throughout 
the Basin all the detached mountains run north and south ; on 
them is the only timber, and about their base the only grass to be 
found. If the mountain is high enough to supply melting snow 
throughout the summer, there may be a settlement at its base ; 
otherwise all the streams that issue from it will be dry in early 
spring, and cultivation, that is to say, irrigation, be impossible. 

Southward, the country grows steadily dryer and more barren ; 
the valleys smaller, the deserts larger, the streams more unreliable. 
In Arizona and Southern Utah, I found it difficult, indeed, to get 
water twice in a day's ride. In the north the most rugged mount- 
ains are relieved by graceful adjuncts; there is a gradual ascent 
from plain to bench, from bench to foot-hill and lower sub-range, 
and over all is a faint green tinge from brush or bunch-grass, or 
a dreamy haze that softens the rudest outlines. But in the south 
there is a grandeur that is awfully suggestive — suggestive of death 
and worn-out lands, of cosmic convulsions and volcanic catastro- 
phes that swept away wliole races of pre-Adamites. There the 
broad plateaus are cut abruptly by deep canons with perpendicular 
sides, sometimes 2000 feet in height ; there is a less gradual ap- 
proach to the highest ranges, and the peaks stand out sharply de- 
fined against a hard blue sky. The air is noticeably dryer ; there 
is no haze to soften the view, and the severe outlines of the cliffs 
7 



88 WESTERN WILDS. 

seem to frown menacingly upon one who threads the cafions. Nee- 
dle rocks j)roject hundreds of feet above the general level, while 
hard volcanic dykes rise above the softer lime or sandstone — 
mighty battlements, abrupt and unpassable — Pelion upon Ossa piled, 
as in Titanic war. 

The western half of the great Basin is Nevada, the eastern, Mor- 
mon Utah. All that part of the Territory east of the Wasatch is 
still the range of the jSIountain Ute, and, for the most part, unfit 
for white settlements. As nine-tenths of the cultivable land lies 
along the western base of the Wasatch, in the little detached val- 
leys mentioned, it results that Mormon Utah consists of a narrow 
line of settlements down the center of the Territory: an attenuated 
commonwealth rarely more than ten miles wide, but nearly sev*?n 
hundred miles long — from Oneida, in Idaho, to the Ilio Virgen, in 
Arizona. Geographically, it nearly fills the definition of a line — 
extension without breadth or thickness. Such communities would 
naturally develop a different system of law and social organization 
from that of a continuously fertile and habitable state like Illi- 
nois. Manifestly something like the Cantonal system would spring 
up, with the Commune as a subdivision of the Canton. But in 
Utah theocracy came in to warp and distort the natural growth 
of government, and subordinate every thing to the strengthening 
of priestly power. Against this the Gentiles and Liberal Mor- 
mons have unceasingly contended, and hence that interminable strug- 
gle — theocracy vs. republicanism — which has so long made up the 
history of Utah, and in which for many years I was an active par- 
tici])ant. 

Through all my wanderings in the West I came back to Utah as 
my home, and to this contest as to my chosen field of action. Even 
now a glow comes over me at thought of blows given and taken, and 
the little circle of choice spirits, half philosophers, half politicians, 
that helped make my life in Utah so pleasant. There was O. J. 
Hollister, half enthusiast, half business man, and wholly a student 
and man of literary tastes, who had had, perhaps, a more varied ex- 
})erience than any of the number. Reared in Columbia County, New 
York, he early felt the "cramp" of farm life there, and sought hi"? 
fortune first in Pennsylvania, and then in New Jersey and ^Maryland. 
The westward wave carried him to Kansas, and when the contest was 
over there, on to the gold fields of Pike'h Peak; and before his frame 
had hardened into manhood, he was busy among the })ioneers of a 
new State. Mining, lumbering, freighting, and ranching gave vigor 



POLYGAMIA. 99 

to his body and mind till the war broke out, when he joined (Tilpin's 
(Colorado regiment. With them he marehed a thousand miles, and 
helped drive Sibley out of Xew Mexico, then returned, and again en- 
gaged in mining, and finally graduated as an editor, in which capacity he 
came to Utah. Our first year there saw him enthusiastic, eager for 
reform, confident that wonders could be done by union and energy. 
A little later, he married the sister of Vice-president Colfax, took a 
good office, grew rich and conservative, and concluded that the Utah 
question was to be slowly worked out rather than quickly fought 
out. 

There, too, was Colonel J. H. Wickizer, who for six years i*egu- 
lated the mails of Utah, Montana, and Idaho, and provided his Gen- 
tile friends with an unfailing store of anecdote and apt illustration. 
He was long a colleague and intimate friend of Abraham Lincoln, 
rode the circuit with him in Illinois, and contended often with him 
at the bar. A man of nice and discriminating taste in letters, he 
was a walking encyclopedia of Western wit, humor, and historic inci- 
dent. His point of attack was the utter nonsense of Mormonism and 
its theocratic government; for it is to be noted that all of us thought 
little and cared less about the religion — it was the civil (or rather un- 
civil) government we objected to. 

Other active participants in our political and social plans were 
Governor George L. Woods and Secretary Geo. A Black. But the 
central figure in Utah, during our period of greatest excitement, was 
Chief Justice James B. McKean. Descended on one side from the 
Machians of Scotland, and on the other from the French Huguenots 
that settled on Long Island, he seemed to unite the fearless consci- 
entiousness of the one race with the tireless energy of the other. A 
case has been made out against him on the charge that he was rather 
fanatical in his dislike of polygamy and theocracy; but it was a kind 
of fanaticism we were sorely in need of in Utah. He and his col- 
leagues. Justices Hawley and Strickland, were the first Federal 
judges who boldly faced the difficulty presented by the anomalous 
organization of the district courts. For twenty years the United 
States judges had for the most part yielded the point, and this yield- 
ing, threw all the power into the hands of the Mormon bishops, who 
acted as territorial judges. Judge ]\IcKean decided that this ought 
not to be so; made the LTnited States marshal the ministerial officer 
of his court ; got a grand jury over which the Church had no control, 
and entered on an inquiry into the many murders committed between 
1855 and 1863. The Supreme Court of the United States overruled 



100 WESTERN WILDS. 

Ill's decision after liis court had Ijecn in operation twenty montlia ; 
but it was too late to save the Church from coiii])lete exposure. The 
good had been accomplished, the evidence had been brought out, and 
the guilt traced home; and though the final decision resulted in 
turning a hundred and twenty-eight murderers and other criminals 
loose, it could not suppress the evidence already published. From 
that time forward the jNIormon Church was on the defensive, and its 
speakers ceased to apologize for murder. This great work these 
judges accomplished; and if their law was wrong, their action was 
right, and its results in every way good for Utah. 

In time, there came to our aid many iiulepcndont IMormons, men 
of active talents, but too much given to verbal hair-splitting. They 
were, one and all, infidels of the toughest stock ; for the man who has 
been a Mormon for many years rarely takes a firm hold on any other 
faith. Having been so badly fooled once, he inclines to regard all 
religion as either fraud or delusion. I smile at thought of one 
such who was one of my political co-laborers. He talked long and 
loud of lil)erty, equality, and fraternity, but cursed the administration^ 
and despaired of republican government; he quoted Tom Paine and 
Herbert Spencer by the hour ; was poloquent on first principles and 
universal law, and argued on the Supreme Good, the control of 
passion, and the unknowable, till he was black in the face with anger. 
To him, the New Testament was a myth, the Banner of Light a gos- 
pel ; he put his faith in Spiritual Philosophy, and believed nearly every 
thing but the Bible. 

The warring factions were at peace when I entered Utah ; but the 
October conference of the Mormons renewed the fight, by issuing a 
decree against all Gentile merchants. It was made cause of excom- 
munication for any Saint to patronize them in any way whatever. In 
eight months ten Gentile firms had left the city, and in August, 1869, 
Salt Lake contained no more than two hundred Gentiles. The Union 
Pacific Pailroad was completed in ]\Iay of that year, and let a little 
light into the Territory ; soon the interest in mining revived, and we 
turned our eyes towards the mountains as the last hope for non-Mor- 
mons. Had this resource failed, I am positive there would not be a 
hundred Gentiles in Utah to-day. The social despotism of the Church 
was so great they could not have remained. 

In September, 1869, I made a. pleasant journey to the Sevier Mines, 
two hundred miles south of Salt Lake, in company with some miners. 
My memory does not recall a more pleasant journey. All day wq 
rolled along through grassy meads or over rocky fiats, with a blue sky 



POLYGAMIA. 101 

overhead, and fanned by the soft airs of autumn in that most delight- 
ful climate. The coves opening back into the mountains were rich in 
bunch-grass, in which jack-rabbits were abundant ; sage hens and 
other small fowl were numerous on the plain, and large flocks of 
ducks were found along the stream. The Sevier Valley has an aver- 
age elevation of five thousand feet above the sea ; the summers are 
mild, and in Avinter snow rarely falls to any depth ; cattle live on the 
range nine months in the year, and yet the region is free from the 
scorching heat of Arizona. Very little of the valley is cultivable, 
however; stock-ranching is the principal occupation. We passed 
through seven walled towns, which had been abandoned by the INIor- 
nions on account of hostile Indians, and were still uninhabited. At 
Marysvale, last town on the Sevier, we found the iSIormons return- 
ing to their homes, peace having been made with the Indians. There 
we turned into the mountains, and toiled for six hours in advancing 
six miles up Pine Gulch. One moment we were on the edge of a 
narrow track where an overturn would have sent us a hundred feet 
into the bed of the stream, and the next struggling through a narrow 
chasm at the bottom of the gulch, with walls of granite rising on both 
sides of us, and above them the sloping sides of the cailon half a 
mile in height, and covered with timber to the very summit. The 
roaring brook, now beside us, now far below us, and again dashing 
against our wagon wheels, seemed to be singing of the snowy heights 
Avhcnce it came; and at every point where a depression or obstructing 
rock formed a pool, the shining mountain trout were to be seen in 
numbers through the clear fluid, though its temperature was but little 
above that of ice- water. 

After a week in this new mining region, I returned to Salt Lake 
City, and to the normal condition of a polemic editor. The tide had 
turned. The Gentiles were coming in again, mostly to engage in 
mining, and in a year from that date the Territory contained several 
thousand non-Mormons. By the autumn of 1871, all the mountains 
of central Utah were dotted with miners' cabins and traversed by pros- 
pectors. By 1875, there was a non-Mormon population in Utah of 
fifteen or tAventy thousand, with a political organization, churches, 
schools, and daily papers of their own, having political control of 
one county and half a dozen towns. But the old conflict goes on 
just the same. A theocracy never yields power till compelled to. The 
young Mormons welcome the change ; the older ones, and especially 
the priesthood, only regret that they were not more severe and ex- 
clusive when they had the power. But Morraouism in a family never 



102 WESTERN WILDS. 

outlasts one generation. Old Mormons die, young ones grow up in- 
fidels; so in due time the system must cx])ire by natural limitation, 
especially since the foreign supply has ceased. The original force of 
fanaticism wears itself out. So it was with the Irvingites, Muggle- 
tonians, etc., and so it will doubtless be with Mormonism. Such a de- 
lusion is like one of Utah's mountain streams, which plunges from a 
rocky gulch as though it would tear up all the country below; five 
miles down the plain it has become a gentle rivulet or sluggish slough, 
five miles further, and there is a channel of dry sand, with here and 
there a brackish pool. Such seems to be the course of all religious de- 
lusions which do not end in blood. 

But the death of Mormonism will not end Utah's troubles. Instead 
of 75,000 fanatics, there will be 150,000 infidels — all those of Mormon 
parentage, having no philosophy to take the place of religion. The de- 
bris of Mormonism will encumber the land for a generation. The 
original Mormon converts were from the most hardy and virtuous 
peasantry in Europe ; they came over as a rule in middle life, and Mor- 
monism could not entirely spoil them. Their children will suffer all 
the evil results of polygamy and superstitious folly, with none of the 
restraint imposed by a theocracy — all the evil and none of the good. 
There will be a laxity of conduct and a general flabbiness of the moral 
fiber, which Avill not be cured till they learn by dire experience that 
the way of the transgressor is hard. The Mormon doctrine that "it is 
right to lie for the good of the Church," has made deceit an institution. 
It can scarcely be said that any disgrace attaches to perjury. Jews and 
Gentiles who live long among this people too often become addicted to 
the same practices; for, say they, "if we do n't, they get the advan- 
tage." There is in Utah more downright lying to the square mile than 
in any other region on this continent; and the religious lying is the 
worst of all. Thus stands the Utah situation : the Jews lie for gain, 
the Gentiles from association, and the Mormons "for Christ's sake.'^ 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 

A YEAH in Utah had brought renewed health and strength ; but the 
love of AVestern travel was aroused. I would see Nevada and Cali- 
fornia; I would enjoy the sublime scenery of the Sierras, and breathe 
the soft airs of the Pacific. 

The Union and Central Pacific Railroads had joined in laying the 
last rail at Promontory, on the 10th of May, 1869, and thousands 
were taking this, the first, opportunity to visit the Far West in restful 
comfort. Corinne, my starting point, had grown with railroad sud- 
denness to a "city" of 1,500 people; then fallen away to a rather dull 
village of 500. Along the track west of it had sprung up five tent- 
towns, whose equals were never seen : Promontory, Deadfall, Murder 
Gulch, Last Chance, and Painted Post. At one of these, in its brief 
existence of two weeks, there were five homicides. The railroad labor- 
ers, then being paid off by hundreds, were the natural prey of the 
harpies who occupied these towns. 

Amono- the first families of Deadfall were two plainsmen, known as 

Arkansaw and Curly , the former a " fly shot," the latter noted for 

nothing more than a strange, reckless humor, and immense capacity 
for whisky. Crazed by intemperance and the loss of his money at 
gambling, he finally took on a huge disgust at life, and one day said to 
Arkansaw : 

" Would you do me a favor ? " 

" With pleasure, old pard. What is it? " 

'' Just to shoot me through the head." 

" Certainly, if you wish it — do any little thing of that sort for an 
old friend. But let's step down to the sand-bar ; it wouldn't do to bother 
the folks." 

The whole population turned out to witness the shooting. A line hav- 
ing been formed, Curly kneeled in front of the crowd, and Arkansaw 
took position and fired, the ball just cutting the hair from the crown 
of Curly's head. 

"D — n you, don't mangle me," was his comment; "you must do 
better than that." 

(103) 



104 WESTERN WILDS. 

Calling for whisky, Arkansaw swallowed an immense draught; then 
raised his pistol slowly and with eyident deliberation. There was a 
sharp report, and Curly lell forward on his face, but in an instant 
sprang to his feet. Arkansaw's shot had cut his left ear clean from 
his head ! The sharp sting and flow of warm blood suddenly changed 
his mind, and bounding into the rayine, he took to his heels, followed 
by the yells and laughter of the crowd. When Arkansaw told me 
this story in Corinne (where I then edited a paper), he laughed till the 
tears stood in his eyes; he considered it the champion joke of his 
career. 

Promontory was for that season the transfer point between the Union 
and Central Pacific ; and was composed about equally of hotels, 
saloons and gambling tents, with a few stores and shops. There 
flourished eyery form of "cut-throat" gambling known: three-card 
monte, ten-die, the strap game, chuckaluck, and the patent lock game. 
Occasionally " legitimate " gambling, like faro or keno, was established ; 
but "cut-throat" games were the rule. "Cappers" boarded the cars 
at Corinne or Kelton, formed acquaintance with their yictims by the 
time the train reached Promontory, and led them straight into the 
dens. Strange that so many men are yet deceiyed w^hen these tricks 
haye been exposed so often; strange that eyen old trayelers can be 
caught by deyices explained a hundred years ago in the "Rogue's 
Lexicon." But no less strange than true, that almost eyery day these 
fellows robbed somebody. No less a personage than Don Pico, 
formerly Mexican Goyernor of California, left |600 in gold with the 
" Promontory boys." 

What I particularly admire in the "sports "is the fine morality they 
display in always haying the loser in the wrong. The latter is certain 
he is going to cheat the gambler, otherwise he would neyer yenture. 
He thinks the gambler ignorant of the fact that the card is marked, 
or the lock " hampered," or the trap changed, as the case may be, by 
the "capper;" and goes in on what he considers a "dead sure thing." 
Hence there should be no legal action to recoyer money lost in gam- 
bling. Between the gambler and the loser the moralities are equal; 
both are rogues at heart, only the former is the more expert. 

From Promontory to the foot of the Sierra Neyadas, there seemed 
scarcely a break in the awful barrenness and desolation. The air was 
bracing and the sky beautifully clear, flecked only by light silyery 
clouds; but there the list of beauties ends. There are mountains 
red and yellow, plains dazzling white, dull gray or dirty brown, and 
alternate yistas of sand, flint, salt and alkali. Here and there are 



THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 105 

large tracts of bunch-grass, but that, brown as broom-sedge, does not 
to an Eastern eye relieve the kindscape. Occasionally the mountain 
scenery rises to the sublime, but for the most part the view is strangely 
wearisome. On some people these scenes produce a deep and peculiar 
melancholy. It is as though all hope had died out of mother earth, 
leaving the dead embers of a burnt-out land as witnesses to the awful 
despair of nature. 




IIUMBOI.JJT PALISADES. 

For hundreds of miles after leaving the fertile valley of Bear 
River there is scarcely place for a garden. There is first the Promon- 
tory Range and then Indian Creek Desert; then Red Dome and Red 
Desert; then the Goose Creek Range and the Goose Creek Desert; 
then the Humboldt Range and the Humbolt Desert, and finally a few 
detached buttes and sun-scorched sand-hills through which we pass to 
the Great Nevada Desert, last, longest and worst of all. Into it flow 
Carson, Truckee, Reese, and Humboldt rivers and a hundred smaller 
streams; out of it comes nothing. Salt lakes, alkaline "sinks" and 
mud flats alone relieve the dreary monotony ; the phenomena are hot 
winds, blinding dust, the mirage, and the shadow of death. The only 
view of any grandeur is at Humboldt Canon, now better known as the 
Palisades, a wild gorge through which the river has forced its way in 
some far distant geologic age, and where the railroad track lies along 
the base of a perpendicular rock many hundred feet in height. Far 



106 WESTERN WILDS. 

below tlie excavated track the waters of the Hnmbohlt foam over the 
uneven bottom of a narrow channel, obstrncted in many phices by the 
immense rocks, which have fallen from the cliff. The lack of colors 
j)revents that singular variety which is the charm of p]cho and Weber 
Canons, but the cold, unchantijing gray imparts a wild and gloomy 
beauty instead. On the south side of the canon the Devil's Peak rises 
fifteen hundred feet directly above the river. 

The needs of miners and stock-ranchers in the adjacent mountains 
have built up a few trading towns along this route; and taking the 
road by sections, I spent some days at each. First, over Sunday, at 
Toano, on Terrace Mountain, where the Sabbath was kept as regularly 
as in New England — the men went hunting or rested at the gambling 
hall; the girls had a dance or got drunk. Next at the lively and 
furiously speculative town of Elko, outfitting point for the rich White 
Pine region, and consequently a place of importance — while the mines 
held out. Then at Argenta, Winnemucca and Reno, gray dots upon 
a white desert, and but slight relief to the landscape. Every-where 
west of Utah we find California work and ideas, pay in coin, and en- 
counter the Chinese with their chip hats and linen blouses, rice feed, 
cheap labor, and universal "no sahvey " to any question they don't 
want to understand. They then worked for thirty-one dollars per 
month, boarding themselves, which amounted to an embargo on white 
labor wherever they came in competition. 

The Humboldt, which is a good sized stream as long as it keeps 
Avithin the cool shadow of the mountains, decreases with every mile as 
soon as it enters the desert; at last we see it no more, for what little 
is left has turned southward, and is lost in the "sink." The worst 
desert we cross in the night, and wake at daylight to glad relief, for 
we are climbing the Sierras, among the grand pines and along the 
crystal waters of the foaming Truckee. To one just from the treeless 
plains, no sight is so grateful as a dense forest, and like a tourist from 
the State of Maine, who lately passed that way, I felt to exclaim : 
" Thank the Lord, I smell pitch once more ! " 

From this region goes most of the lumber used along the road, as 
far as Salt Lake City ; but over all that interior there is an ever- 
increasing scarcity of good timber. Woods are found only upon the 
mountains ; the inner plains of the Great Basin are as bare of trees as 
if blasted by the breath of a volcano. At Yerdi Station, 5,000 feet 
above sea-level, we pass the State line and enter California. Crossing 
the Truckee, we take an additional locomotive and enter upon the 
steepest ascent of the Sierras. The first large curve brings us above 



THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 



107 



Donner Lake, so named in memory of those unfortunate emigrants 
from Quincy, Illinois, who here starved and froze and suffered away 
the long cold winter of 1846. Next we look down upon Lake Bigler, 
and another hour brings us to Summit Station, highest point on the 
Central Pacific, 7,042 feet above sea-level, 1,669 miles from Omaha, 

and 105 from 

Sacra ra e n t o. 
We enter now 
upon the west- 
ern slope, with 
its s t e e p de- 
scent ; and with 
the breaks*' set 
up" and very 
little steam, we 
still rush along 
at a f e a r f u 1 
rate, at one 
place running 
twenty-five 
miles in thirty 
minutes, with- 
out an ounce 
of steam. For- 
ty miles of 

snow-sheds have been erected along this part of the line at a cost of 
a million and a half dollars; to the great assurance of winter pas- 
sage, but an equal hinderance to enjoyment of the view. 

Running out upon a more gentle grade, Ave pass in rapid succes- 
sion, Dutch Flat, Little York, You Bet, and Red Dog, all old min- 
ing towns, the largest still containing three thousand inhabitants. 
All along the road we see mile after mile of flumes running in 
every direction down the ridges, and carrying large streams to be 
used in hydraulic mining below; and in places pass hundreds of 
acres of "old dirt," which has been washed out and abandoned. 
All are alert for the view of Cape Horn, the wonder of this route : 
but the sight is not good for nervous people. An awful chasm, at 
first apparently right before us, and then but a little to the left, 
opens directly across the range ; and, standing on the steps of the 
car, it seems as if the train were rushing headlong into it. The 
first view allows the sight to pierce a thousand feet, almost straio-ht 




SEVEN THOUSAND FEET ABOVE THE SEA. 



108 



WESTERN WILDS. 



downward to the green bottom, where the trees shrink to mere 
shrubs, und the Chinamen working at the himber seem like })ig- 
mies; a little further down the gorge the wagon bridge — hundreds 
of feet al)ove the bottom — appears like a faint white band, and still 
further the sight is lost in a blue mist. The railroad track is ex- 









CAPE HORN. 



cavated along the sides and around the head of this gorge, where, 
in aboriginal days, the Indians had not even a foot-path, as the 
first descent from the head of the chasm is six hundred feet, nearly 
perpendicular. When the road-bed was constructed, the men who 
made the first excavation were secured by ropes let down from a 
higher point. 

The climate changes with every hour's descent. The red earth, 
resinous pines, and yellow grass show that we are on the Pacific 
Coast; but the view is wonderfully relieved by the pines, and the 
red brandies and pale green leaves of the manzanita. Settlements 
thicken; gardens, fields, and orchards appear. Down at last on the 
California side of the Sierras, we emerge from the foot-hills upon 
a rather level plain dotted with live oaks, with occasionally a cul- 
tivated field. Crossing this plain and the American River, we leave 
the cars and walk amid the neat squares and well-watered grass 
plats of the State capital. 

A week in Sacramento taught me one im])ortant flict: that Call- 



THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 109 

fornia malaria is quite as bad in its Avay as AVa1)asli malaria, for I 
had the unmistakable old-fashioned ague. The returning miners 
mIio brought East such "wonderful accounts of the healthfulness of 
California, spent most of their time there in the hills or on the 
higher plateaus; for in the Ioav grounds along the larger streams 
there is miasma enough. For many miles along their lower course, 
the Sacramento and San Joaquin (which the absurd natives pro- 
nounce Wahkcot) are bordered by vast marshes and tiile lands, which 
yield slowly to flood plains, all overflowed in the rainy season. The 
days are hot, the nights are cool, the w^inter and spring very Avet, 
the summer very dry — why should Ave not find malaria, if nature's 
laAVS are uniform? But a little further aAvay from the streams, the 
dry air of California, slightly tempered by ocean winds, gives assur- 
ance of health. 

I next sought the rural districts, crossing the Sacramento into 
Yolo County, and following the raised track of the California Cen- 
tral Railroad as my best passage through the hde lands. Tide is 
the Spanish or Indian name of a coarse reed which covers the 
entire tract, green during Avinter and spring, but noAV dry as tin- 
der, and furnishing fuel for extended fires. Far doAvn among: the 
reeds, Avhich often exceeded ten feet in height, I saAV cattle hunting 
for scattered clumps of grass, Avhich still had a little shade of green 
in the moisture preserA^ed by the tides. Beyond this tract, the road 
emerges into a A^ast plain, OA^erfloAved for many miles out in Avinter, 
but noAV dry and dusty, and coA'ered with coarse grass of a yelloAv- 
ish brown color, Avhich looks, to the Eastern eye, as if CA'ery par- 
ticle of nutriment Avere burnt out of it. 

At Davisville, fifteen miles from Sacramento, I remained a fcAV 
days to inA-estigate the fruit farms and silk culture. A large field 
had been planted in mulberry trees ; a factory large enough to cm- 
ploy a hundred hands AA'as being erected, and the experiment is noAV 
ju actiA'e and faA^orable operation. Sericulture Avill some day con- 
stitute one of the leading interests of California, as capable men 
are entering upon it at several places, and there can scarcely be 
a doubt that the climate and soil are aa'cII adapted thereto. The 
AAant of cheap labor has been the great hinderance ; and this is 
supplied by the Chinese, Avho Avill probably become silk manufac- 
turers here as at home. Vineyards extended in all directions. The 
picking season Avas OA'er, but there Avere still grapes enough on the 
vines to furnish a plentiful repast. Many thousand bunches had 
dried upon the stem, and tasted more like raisins than grapes, un- 



110 WESTERN WILDS. 

less of the acid Sonoma variety; those had a strong fiery taste. 
Every known species, from the extreme north to the tropics, seems 
to find here a second native country, as it were, where it attains to 
sreat size and fineness of flavor. 

Every district in California produces its own peculiar wine, but 
all the lighter kinds go by the general name of " Sonoma White," 
the manufacture having begun at Sonoma. It has been claimed 
that the use of light wines lessens the demand for strong licpiors. 
It certainly has not produced that effect in California. While the 
Eastern tourist is eager for his draught of ice-cooled Sonoma, the 
old Californian invariably calls for whisky. Perhaps it is because 
they used whisky so long before wine became plenty. On every 
road from the larger towns is a series of hotels, with bar attach- 
ment, usually known as the One-mile House, the Two-mile House, 
etc.; and a man's capacity (in other words the length of time he 
has been in California) is usually guaged by the number he can 
patronize on his way to and from town. The "pilgrim" often falls 
before he reaches town. The man who has been here a few^ years 
gets in with his team, disposes of his load, and usually has to spend 
the nidit at the One- or Two-mile House. But the old Californian 
drinks at every place on his way in, transacts business with a clear 
head, reverses the drinking process at every place going out, even 
to the Ten-mile House, and gets home in good condition to do his 
evening's work and enjoy himself in the bosom of his family. 

Besides figs and grapes there is very little fruit grown in the 
main valley; but in all the little mountain vales, both in the Coast 
Range and Sierras, is produced almost every fruit of the temperate 
and tropical climes. Apples are not so finely flavored as in the 
East, and pears are large and coarse ; but peaches are better, and 
plums, damsons, and nectarines perfectly delicious. It is in grapes, 
however, that California particularly excels. 

From Davisville I traveled up Putah Creek all day through a 
rich level country, covered now with the rich haze of autumn, the 
air seeming full of red dust and smoke ; passed occasionally clumps 
of trees and very inferior looking farm-houses, seldom painted or 
well-finished ; traversed mile after mile of continuous wheat fields, 
^vith stubble still bright though the crop was harvested four months 
ago, and found the same dry, dusty, grassless look over the whole 
landscape. The entire valley is devoted to the growth of wheat 
and barley, with the exception of occasional stock-ranches which 
also appear devoid of life at this season, with the same old look. 



THE PACIFIC SLOPE. Ill 

and half-Southern, half-Spanish air of shiftlessness. The road runs 
unfenced through a constant succession of wheat fields, whence the 
grain had been cut late in May ; and the prevailing impression was 
of drought. There were fields parched and cracked open, dust in 
great heaps among the dried vegetation, grass withered and burnt, 
while the largest creeks were entirely dried up or shrunk to mere 
rivulets, pursuing their sluggish and doubtful course away down at 
the bottom of deep gulches, which in winter and spring are filled 
by immense torrents. At night the horizon was lighted up by fires 
raging in the stubble on the high lands, or among the tules lower 
down, and by day the sun was obscured, and distant objects hidden 
by the smoke or light haze, which corresponds to our eastern Indian 
summer, and is here the immediate precursor of the first rain. 

Having since visited California at other seasons, I find it to pos- 
ssess an almost aggravating regularity of climate. To begin with 
the year, January is the month when the heaviest rains are passed, 
and the ground is settling for the spring growth. Soon this valley 
is beautiful indeed. Strawberries and other early fruits are early 
in market, the plains are of a rich green, plowing is pushed forward 
with vigor, wheat is sown, and springs quickly into growing life. 
In March the rainy season appears to come again, though, generally, 
the "later rain'' is light. Thence the showers grow slowly less and 
less frequent till some time in May. The wheat is about full grown, 
early potatoes begin to appear, and slight signs of drought are mani- 
fest. The grass gets ripe, the Spanish oats (wild) begin to turn 
yellow, and early in June the wheat is harvested. 

It lies or stands in shocks on the ground, to be threshed out at 
will; for no rain need now be apprehended. The surface begins to 
show signs of extreme drought; by the middle of July the freshets 
are all past and the marshes dried up ; the ground cracks open in 
long fissures, into which the grass seeds fall and are preserved to 
another growing season. As summer advances all the minor vege- 
tation loses its green ; the grass, dead ripe, stands cured to a bright 
yellow, varied in places by a dirty brown ; creation assumes a gray 
and dusty color, and only the purple fig leaves and faint green of 
of those trees which have a deeper root relieve the general aspect 
of barrenness. On the slopes of the Sierras, the red dust lies six 
inches in depth, and the prospect is brightened only by occasional 
patches of verdure along the mountain streams, and the pale-green 
oval leaves of the manzanita. 

Still the heavens remain clear. Then one may see through the 



112 



WESTERN WILDS. 



valley of the Sacramento great stacks of wheat in sacks, standing 
in the open fields till a convenient time arrives for hauling it away, 
and threshing-machines running in the open air with no fear of rain. 
The stubble of the old fields retains its brightness, and tlie long dry 
autumn of California is fairly inaugurated. The marshes become 




CALIFORNIA AGRICULTURAL REPORT. 

beds of dust, which is blown up in stifling clouds ; the mirage ap- 
pears upon the plain in deceptive floods of what the Mexicans call 
"lying waters;" the tides become dry as tinder, and at night the Sac- 
ramento is lighted for miles by the fires that rage over the same 
area where, eight months before, a steamboat could ply at ease. Thp 
yellow grass is eaten to the ground, and the herds are driven far 
up the mountains; the dust, which has become insufferable in the 
roads, seems to blow away and on to- the fields ; the i ^ads are often 
bare and dry, hardened like sunburnt brick, and the depressions 
in the fields knee-deep in dust. The sky becomes obscured ; the 
sun rises red and fiery, and disappears about 4 P. M., in a bank of 
haze. People prepare for winter by nailing a board here and there 
on an apology for a barn, and hauling away any wheat that remains 
in the field. After a few preliminary showers, the "early rain" 
comes in force; torrents descend upon beds of dust, and the plain 
becomes a sea of thin mud. Then all the mountain gulches are 
swollen with muddy red water; the Sacramento spreads for miles 
over the tide lands, and steamers again ply over what was a baked 
plain three months before. In a few weeks the worst is passed, and 
the growing season begins again. Moral: To enjoy California, come 
in the first half of the year. From June till November it is too 
dry for comfort ; from that till the middle of January too muddy. 



THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 113 

I have only described the climate of the interior — that series of 
broad plains bordering the San Joaquin and Sacramento, and ex- 
tending to the foot-hills of the Coast Range on the west and the 
Sierras on the east, which includes three-fourths of agricultural 
California. Taken as a whole, however, the State has three grand 
divisions of climate. First is the coast climate ; in that narrow 
strip between the Coast Range and the ocean, the fields are watered 
nightly by the ocean fogs, and are green from January to December. 
Hence their leading industry — expressed in the local phrase — "the 
cow counties." Next is the interior climate, above described. The 
region bordering the bay of San Francisco enjoys a mixture of two 
climates. The third might be called the mountain-valley climate. 
From the Sierras some forty little valleys open westward ; down 
each one flows a bright stream, affluent of the San Joaquin or Sac- 
ramento, and each has a different climate, from Sonora, where figs 
ripen, and strawberries grow in February, to Yreka, where snow 
sometimes lies for three months. Our artist has faithfully depicted 
the average Californian's description of the products of his State. The 
reader may discount the picture opposite by a very large per cent. 

Next I went to San Francisco, by way of Vallejo, taking steamer 
thence to the city. The rainy season had set in, and I awoke next 
morning to a view, from my room far up the hill, of a city half hidden 
in mist, from which spires and cupolas projected like sharp rocks above 
a swelling flood. Three days of rain, and then the city put on its 
" winter " look. The citizens boast of their winters and apologize for 
their summers; and well they may. August is the coldest (to the 
feelings) and September the warmest month in the year ! One can feel 
no difference in temperature between January and June ; furs are 
worn from July 1st till late in August, then left off* till near Christ- 
mas again. The latter part of the winter is singularly mild and equa- 
ble — about as May in the latitude of Philadelphia. The genesis of 
these strange contradictions is in the coast winds. In July and 
August they set hard and full upon the coast, bringing with them a 
dense fog that lowers the temperature till an overcoat is a necessity. 
In September comes a calm, while there is still heat enough in the 
summer sun to warm the air ; later comes the softer wind from the 
south-west. But this south-west wind also drives in the rain clouds 
upon the interior plains; so while San Francisco has her nicest 
weather, the interior has its rainy season. The clouds thus driven 
north from the South Pacific drop but scant moisture on Southern 
California ; the rain- fall at Fort Yuma rarely exceeds two inches per 



114 WESTERN WILDS. 

year. Northward they are caught by the higher mountains, and the 
rain-fall increases; till at last, entangled amid the sub-ranges of Or- 
egon, they shower almost constantly from October till May. 

I like San Francisco for its variety. If one don't enjoy staid 
American society, there are French, Italian, and Spanish quarters, 
and not far oif Kanakas, and ever-present Chinese. Society is in a 
transition state. This is a land of the beggar and the prince. The 
ojipressive land monopoly which was fixed upon California by Mex- 
ican policy, the wonderful fluctuations in mining property, and the 
daring speculations of its business men, have given over the wealth to 
a few hands. There seems to be no well defined middle class. Public 
taste inclines to the showy ; for wealth and fashion naturally outran 
culture in a community which, in twenty years, rose like another 
Venice, from the salt marsh and sand-hill to unmeasured opulence. 

The city is strangely picturesque and interesting. On the west side 
of the bay and facing the east, the business blocks cover the flat 
along the water front and extend a little way up the slope ; thence the 
residences and public buildings continue to rise in terraces, to the very 
summit of the ridge — a spur of Monte Diablo. With this slope and 
its sandy soil, it is of necessity clean and free from malaria. The 
ocean fogs are bracing to some constitutions, death to others. No 
man can reason beforehand as to how they will affect him ; they refuse 
to follow a priori rules. The first San Francisco was built almost 
entirely of wood, and vanished one day in a sweeping fire. The 
second was built in a rather fragile manner with more solid materials; 
the frequent fires finally cured the first fault, and the earthquakes fright- 
ened them out of the second. In one year the city had eleven " shakes." 

The Chinese, seen in every part of California, are never out of sight 
in the city, of which they constitute one-sixth of the population. Some 
twenty squares along Dupont Street are given up to them, the locality 
appropriately known as " Barbary Coast." We found it settled so 
thickly that it seems scarcely possible human beings could exist so, and 
could scarcely repress a feeling of fear as we plunged into the dark 
alleys lined by little cubby-holes, and alive with yellow women. But 
our guide assures us we are always safe here ; " though," he adds, " I 
can't give you any such promise two squares from here, among the 
whites." This suggests the " hoodlum," or young rough, which San 
Francisco has in fearful abundance. 

Of course my resident friends took me to the Chinese Theater, 
where we witnessed part of a play representing some marvelous inci- 
dents in the career of Rip Sah, or some other old humbug, whose 



THE PACIFIC SLOPE. 115 

name and monarchy were great in China cbout sixty thousand years 
since. I may not have the date quite correct, as Celestial history con- 
sists of the annals of a series of dynasties, evolving civilization anrl 
philosophy through successive eras of such magnitude that a variation 




BARBARY COAST," SAN FRANCISCO. 

of twenty thousand years, more or less, is regarded as a trifling discrep- 
ancy. The musicians sit upon the stage directly behind the actoi's, 
who enter and retire always by the wings; and the dying groans of 
Rip Sah, who expires in a fit just after having beheaded fifty thousand 
prisoners, are drowned by the monotonous droning of something like a 
tin drum and two three-stringed instruments, about as musical as a hog 
with his nose under a gate, but not half as expressive. 



116 WESTERN WILDS. 

The California Chinese (and I inckido in this class all in the Far 
West,) seem to me to have the coldest, most gloomy and rcpellant 
religion, the most chilling philosophy, of any race in the world. 
There is but one redeeming featnre in the case ; they are all in a 
skeptical state, and do not more than half believe their own faith. I 
once witnessed in Sacramento their great " devil-drive," which includes 
nearly all the ceremonies of their religion. At least four thousand 
Chinese were present ; and with the blowing of horns, beating gongs, 
talking and yelling, by Mongolian courtesy called singing, and open- 
air theaters and bands, they made the evening lively. Nearly all the 
Chinese in America are orthodox Buddhists, who reason the matter 
thus: "If God good, why pray? Tend to the devil." Hence this 
ceremony of driving out the latter. 

We found the devil " out in the cold " — a hideous black figure, 
easily recognized as the evil one, set upon a pedestal just outside the 
door. Within were two enormous "Joshes," ten feet high, one in 
each corner, and over them a shelf filled with little household gods, 
two feet or so in length ; while behind the altar the Buddhist priests 
and attendant boys were going through a ceremony very similar to 
High Mass. The Buddhists, like the Mormons, believe in a regular 
gradation of gods, rising one above another to the great head god, 
whom the Mormons call Eloheim, and the Chinese " Top-side Josh." 

Outside, booths with open front were erected, in which various plays 
were being performed in choice Tartar, the view free to the crowd. 
This continued till midnight, when a general chorus of priests and 
bands announced the close of the festival (?) and a torch was applied 
to the devil. The figure, which proved to be full of fire-crackers, 
"went oif" in brilliant style till nothing was left apparently but the 
hideous head and back-bone ; these then shot up^Vard like a huge 
Roman candle, leaving a trail of blue fire, and exploded high in the 
air with a loud report, followed by a shower of sparks and insufferable 
stench. And that was supposed to drive the devil away for a year! 
Turning away with a feeling of relief that the devil was gone at last, 
I encountered Ah Ching, our Mongolian laundryman, at the Pacific 
Hotel, who spoke some English, and had an intellect that was " not to 
be sneezed at," of whom I sought information, and received it thus: 

"Hallo, John, do you believe in him?" 

" Oh, velley, Melica man, me believe him." 

"All Chinamen believe in him?" 

"Oh, China like Melica man. Some believe him, sahvey; some 
link him all gosh damn." And I felt that I was answered. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. 

From the Golden Gate I returned to Utah and trouble. I had often 
dealt theoretically with the Mormon courts. I was now to have prac- 
tical experience of their beautiful uncertainty. 

Corinne, where I had my legal residence, an exclusively Gentile 
town, had sprung up suddenly in the center of an old Mormon county. 
The county judge was one Samuel Smith, husband of six wives, two of 
whom were his own brother's daughters, sealed to him by Brigham 
Young, with full knowledge of that relationship. As editor of the 
only Gentile paper in Utah, I had occasionally commented on this 
fact with considerable severity; nevertheless, when summoned to his 
court as party to a civil suit, I attended with the innate American con- 
fidence that every body is safe in the shadow of a court-house. 

The trial was over, and I was just stepping off the court-house por- 
tico, when I received a thundering whack in the back of the head 
which sent me face forward upon the gravel. There was a rush, a 
sound of curses, and I felt, first a shower of blows upon the head and 
shoulders, and then one or more persons walking over me with heavy 
boots. I distinctly heard bones snap somewhere; then there was a 
void, and next my friends were picking me up and taking stock gen- 
erally of my condition. My left collar-bone was broken in two places, 
one of my ribs loosened, my temple badly cut, and about two inches 
of my scalp torn off, besides being badly hurt myself. We were but 
nine Gentiles in a Mormon town of twelve hundred people, so there 
was nothing to be done but haul me over to Corinne, where my wounds 
were dressed. In one week I was walking about town in pretty good 
condition, and just a month from the attack was discharged cured, and 
able to travel. 

Wonderful as this recovery seems, it is nothing to what I have 
known to occur in the pure air of the Rocky Mountains. A black- 
smith living in Montana, located on the stage-road a hundred miles 
from the nearest surgeon, had his knee shattered by a pistol-shot. He 
sharpened two bowie-knives, strapped the leg over a bench, and am- 
putated it half way between the knee and hip-joint, taking up the 



118 



WESTERN WILDS. 



arteries -with his own hands, and scaring them with irons heated by 
himself in the forge. His wound healed by what pl'ysi(;ians call " the 
first intention," and he still lives, to walk pretty well upon a wooden 
leg, and be known throughout the mountains as " Nervy Bill." 

I saw a man in Stockton, California, who had been "bodacionsly 
chawed up," to use his own language, by a grizzly bear. In the 







" BODACIOUSLY CHAWED UP." 

death-hug he had an arm and leg broken, and all the flesh torn from 
his forehead and crown, after which he lay two days and niglits in the 
caflon before being found. Yet he lived, in good health, and not badly 
disfigured. Chief-Justice Brookings, late of the Supreme Court of 



TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. ^ 119 

Dakota, broke througli the ice in the Big Sioux River, and was held 
fast for twenty-four hours, his legs crushed by the ice and chilled by 
the cold water. Both limbs were amputated; but he enjoys good 
health, walks upon corks, and to use the language of an admiring con- 
stituent " is able to stump 'round an' do a heap o' devilment." It's 
the physical condition at the time that does it. Debauchees have died 
from the scratch of a rusty nail; mountaineers have survived a dozen 
gaping wounds, any one of which, by sound medical reasoning, should 
have killed them. 

My principal assailant proved to be the son of Judge Smith. He 
was arrested by the Mormon authorities and fined five dollars. It is 
well known in Utah that, in such cases, the fine is seldom paid. Two 
years afterwards, W. R. Keithley, a lawyer in Salt Lake City, struck 
a Mormon editor two blows with a light cane, doing no particular 
damage. He was taken before the Mormon justice, fined a hundred 
dollars, and put under bonds of four hundred to keep the peace. 
That was about the percentage of difference in those days between 
justice to the Saint and the Gentile. It is different now — thanks to 
Ulysses Grant and Judge McKean. But as for me, I can safely swear 
that I have a little more than balanced the account with the Mor- 
mons. I can lay my hand on my heart and say that they don't owe 
me a cent. 

After a winter visit to the East, I returned to Utah early in 1870, 
eager to be fighting the old battles again. There had been great 
changes. The first reaction, following the completion of the Union 
Pacific Railroad, was past, and the mountains were lively again. 
Rich silver veins had been opened in the Wasatch, and miners by 
hundreds were pouring in. Better than all, U. S. Grant was at the 
helm, and had sent men to represent the government in Utah. His 
civil career has been fiercely criticised, but his was the first admin- 
istration that accomplished any good for Utah. No more bowing to 
Brigham in the Gentile programme. No more of Federal officials 
dancing with his "wives," and taking an invitation to his house as 
a high honor. No more askiug his gracious permission to remain in 
Utah ; and especially no negligence in looking after Gentile interests. 

Every day brought tidings of rich discoveries in the mountains. 
When I visited the Sevier district in 1869, there was not a mining 
shaft fifty feet deep, and not more than a thousand non-Mormons in 
Utah; by the close of 1870, the mining population increased to 
4,000, and it was soon established, beyond doubt, that Utah was a 
rich mining country. In one month the Walker Brothers shij^ped 



120 WESTERN WILDS. 

4,000 tons of ore. The early history of the Emma Mine now reads 
like a romance. Mr. J. B. Woodman had never wavered in his faith 
that the hill north of Little Cottonwood Canon contained a rich de- 
posit. He had followed a narrow vein till his means were ex- 
hausted, without making a "strike." His faith was infectious, and 
one or two grocers in Salt Lake City furnished him on credit a 
hundred pounds of flour and some meat, which he and his partners 
carried up the canon, wading through the snow. Before that pro- 
vision was exhausted, they came upon the upper part of the deposit, 
since known as the Emma Mine. In a month thereafter the most 
sanguine spoke of it as worth ^40,000, whereat the many laughed. 
Every foot of additional development showed the ore-body to be 
greater, and the property was successively sold and stocked at higher 
prices. In September, 1872, after it had been sold in London, a 
gentleman familiar with the Avorkings of the mine presented the fol- 
lowing exhibit : 

Depth of workings 230 feet 

Breadth of workings 6 to 40 " 

Length of workings . 475 " 

Cubic feet excavated (about) 500,000 

Tons of ore extracted 30,000 

Tons of waste and third-class ore 15,000 

Value of ore ■ . .$2,500,000 

So small had been the expenses of working, on account of the loose 
nature of the ore, that $2,200,000 of this had been clear profit. The 
mine might honestly have been sold for $2,000,000. It was stocked 
at $5,000,000. The result was a failure to pay dividends on such a 
capital, a cessation of working, caving in of the mine, a disgraceful 
lawsuit, and an international scandal. The nation at large has little 
to ease the smart. In LTtah we have one consolation : all the honest 
work on the mine was done by Gentile residents; all the fraud was 
perpetrated by men who live outside of Utah, some of them our 
worst enemies. But we have suffered most of the ill effects. A 
cloud was thrown upon Utah mines which delayed our progress for 
two years. 

In May I went to Washington City, as agent for the Corinne Gen- 
tiles, and remained two months and a half The next December and 
January I also spent in Washington on the same mission. We were 
without representation in any legislative body, and our only recourse 
was to have an agent at Washington, who, besides being unofficial in 
character, had the constant hostility of the Mormon delegate in the 



TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. 



121 



House of Representatives. It was then I learned the miseries of a 
lobbyist. Then I knew what it was to wait wearily on legislative ac- 
tion ; to besiege the doors of congressmen and ask favors I could 
not return, and cool my heels in the ante-chambers of official great- 
ness. It was poison to the soul of a mountaineer. Of all the varied 
employments I have taken a hand at, 1 look back with the least satis- 
faction upon this Washington experience. I do not wonder that lob- 
byists are suspected of monstrous sins and multitudinous petty crimes. 
Surely one who should follow the business long would be mean enough 
for any thing. 

In midsummer I attended the remarkable debate in the Taber- 
nacle at Salt Lake City, _^ ^_^ . 

between Rev. J. P. New- ^^-■==^=^s^s^x^waBm^^- ^£P- ^''\\\ 

man and Orson Pratt, -_^ : 

which ended as might 

have been expected, ^^"^'"^ ^^^ ^ 

each party claiming the i ^^' 

victory for its own 
champion. It did not 
interest me as it might 
have done two years 
before ; for I had been 
long enough in Utah to 
know that polygamy 
was far from being the 
worst evil of Mormon- 
ism. To its victims it 
is doubtless a horrible 
institution, but to the 
on-looking Gentile it 
partakes more of the 
nature of a comedy. 
As for instance, when it 
is gravely announced by 
some old frog of an 
elder, that "a man can 't 
git no exaltation in the 
celestial world 'thout he 's gone into plurality." Or when one learns 
that it is the style among the wealthy to have three wives ; while 
your true saintly epicure, if unable to afford three, has at least "a 
loan wife for summer and a fat one for winter." 




MORMON WIVES FOB SUMMER AND WINTtil. 



122 WESTERN WILDS. 

But occasiorically comedy and tragedy are united, as in the case 
of IMshop Smith, married to two of his cousins and two of his 
nieces ; or in that of Elder Allsop, who has a mother and daughter 
for wives, both mothers of his children, the Avhole brood living 
together in a little cabin. In the southern part of Utah may be 
seen two towns without parallels in ximerica — Taylorsville and 
Winnville. Two wortiiy ^Mormon patriarchs. Elder Taylor and 
Elder Winn, have each taken numerous "wives," and each of their 
sons has done the same. The result is two villages, in one of which 
all the inhabitants are Taylors, and in the other all Winns. The 
Taylors have been the better Saints, and outnumber the others two 
to one, which is very disheartening to the AVinns. Old man Winn 
is reported to have said, to an official who visited him not long ago, 
that life to him was but a weary desert, and at times he felt like 
fainting by the way-side. At other times he declared that never 
more would he go through the Endowment House and take another 
young wife, "for that old Taylor can just naturally raise two chil- 
dren to my one." 

After six weeks' travel in the mines, and a winter's work for 
Gentile interests, the opening months of 1871 found me again a 
traveler. This time I came eastward, and, after a brief rest, made 
a tour of the Missouri Valley. I had been three years in the Far 
West, and before I relate more extensive journeys, perhaps this is 
as good a place as any to present a general view of our Territories 
and the adjacent States. 

First let it be noted that our maps give no idea of the nature of 
the country ; they do not show the comparative elevation and bar- 
renness. Here and there on the common maps may be seen the 
words "Great American Desert," the assumption being that all the 
rest of the region is fertile. The fact is that barrenness is the rule 
and fertility the exception ; though much of the land that is not 
cultivable still furnishes a coarse grass. 

Draw a line on longitude 100° from British America to Texas; 
then go 800 miles westward, and draw another from British America 
to Mexico, and all the area between these two lines — 800 by 1200 
miles in extent ; or in round numbers a million square miles — is 
the "American Desert:" a region of varying mountain, desert, and 
rock ; of prevailing drought or complete sterility, broken rarely by 
fertile valleys; of dead volcanoes and sandy wastes; of excessive 
chemicals, rock, gravel, and other inorganic matter. Only the lower 
valleys, bordering perennial streams, or more rarely some plateau 



TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. 123 

on which water can be brought from the mountains for irrigation, or 
still more rarely a green plat in some corner of the mountains where 
there is an unusual amount of rain, or percolation of moisture from 
above, constitute the cultivable lands ; all the rest is rugged mount- 
ain, rocky flat, gravel bed, barren ridge scantily clothed with sage- 
brush, greasewood or bunch-grass, or complete desert — the last cover- 
ing at least one-third of the entire region. 

The reasons for this sterility are many: Elevation and consequent 
cold ; drought caused by the trend of the bordering mountains and 
direction of the prevailing winds; rock in all forms, and such de- 
structive chemicals as salt and alkali. Wyoming contains 98,000 
square miles, and not a foot of land less than 4,000 feet high. Colo- 
rado has about the average elevation of Wyoming, Denver being 
nearly on the level of Cheyenne. Manifestly the high plains of these 
two Territories can never be of value except for grazing. Utah, as 
reduced, contains over 60,000 square miles ; but, except possibly a 
few of the sunken deserts of the south, the lowest valley is higher 
than the average summit of the Alleghany Mountains, the surface of 
the Salt Lake being 4,250 feet above the sea. 

Hundreds of little valleys in the Rocky Mountains, beautiful as 
the Vale of Rasselas from May till October, rich in grass and game, 
are yet useless to the farmer; grain can not be made to grow in 
Ihem by any art of the husbandman. In Parley's Park, Heber C. 
Kimball tried for seven years to raise wheat; it was ii\variably "cut 
off in the flower" by the September frosts. At Soda Springs, Idaho, 
6,500 feet above sea-level, the " Morrisite " Mormons tried farming 
for years; but only succeeded With rye and potatoes, which will ma- 
ture in a three-months' summer. On all the higher plains of Wyom- 
ing, frost may be looked for with certainty every month in the 
year. At the Navajo farms — in Arizona — I have seen icicles six 
inches long on the rocks, only 300 feet above the fields, on the 18th 
of June; and, in 1871, when the Indians had, with great labor, 
brought forward a crop of corn, and planted orchards, on the night 
of May 31st a storm of sleet froze every plant and tree solid to the 
ground. Nor are these such difficulties as can be overcome by in- 
dustry; we must wait till nature flattens out the country and brings 
it down into the region of warm air and abundant moisture. 

If all the low lands were fertile, there would still be a large area 
for agriculture; but they are far more barren than the mountains, 
except those tracts lying immediately at the base of the ranges, or in 
low valleys along some perennial stream. Every-wliere in the larger 



124 WESTERN WILDS. 

basins the land at a distance from the mountains is a complete desert, 
generally whitened by alkali. For days of travel the face of nature 
is a dirty white, and in dry weather an acrid and irritating dust 
powders the traveler until all races are of one hue. In every Terri- 
tory are found such tracts, known by suggestive names : The Jornada 
del Iluerto, or "Journey of the Dead," in New Mexico; the Salt 
Desert, west of Great Salt Lake, covering 5,000 square miles; the 
Great Nevada Desert, 25,000 square miles of utter desolation ; the 
White Desert, Red Desert, Mohave Desert, Skull Valley, Death Val- 
ley, the 3Iala Pais of the Spaniard and the Mauvaises Terres of the 
French voyagcur. Where the stage route crosses such a tract, the 
animals labor through a cloud of dust, and the coach drags heavily; 
the wheels " cry " as they grind in the sand and soda, and the pas- 
sengers endure as best they can the irritation to eye and nostril and 
the slime formed upon the body by dust and sweat. This penetrating 
alkaline powder sifts in at the smallest crevice, and even the clothing 
in a valise is often covered by it. 

Such are the worst sections of the West. Next above them are the 
grassy plains, though still unfit for agriculture. Of the million square 
miles above bounded, at least one-third produces bunch-grass, which 
chiefly diifers from the verdure of the East in that it never forms a 
continuous sod or green sward; it grows in scattered clumps, six or 
eight to the square rod, or thicker where the locality is favorable. 
One can span a bunch at the roots, but above it spreads; sometimes 
several bunches grow so as to form a clump a foot wide. It is never 
of a deep green, and for three-quarters of the year is a regular gray- 
brown ; hence an Eastern man might ride all day through rich past- 
ures of it, and think himself in a complete desert. It gets its entire 
growth in about six weeks, some time between January and July, 
according to the locality. It then cures upon the ground, and stands 
through the year looking very much like bunches of broom-sedge. 
It is as nutritious as ripe oats, the species with a white top, containing 
a small black seed, being particularly fattening. With it animals 
make journeys of a thousand miles without an ounce of grain; with- 
out it, nine-tenths of America between meridians 100° and 120° would 
be totally worthless. 

Probably the most disappointing feature in Rocky Mountain scenery, 
to all new-comers, is the absence of a green landscape ; for with rare 
exceptions the traveler's eye does not rest in summer upon an unvary- 
ing carpet of green as in the East. The bunch-grass is a pale green, 
or quite gray or yellow ; the small sage-brush is white, and the large 



TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. 125 

variety blue ; the greasewood is a dirty white, and the earth and rocks 
white, yellow or red; the general result is a neutral gray, which 
seems to shroud all creation in sober tints. One may ride all day 
through good bunch-grass pasture and his horse be walking in sand 
all the time; or through a tolerably rich country and never see an 
acre of that lively emerald which is the charm of an Ohio landscape. 
A plai^ of green sward is a rare sight in the Rocky Mountains; but 
eastward, on the high plains, other grasses appear, changing by slow 
degrees to the heavy verdure of the Missouri Valley. 

Last, and least in extent, are the arable tracts, which are all the 
more fertile from receiving the wash of the high lands; they are in 
fact the most fertile in the world. Utah alone contains some fifty 
valleys, of every width from one mile to fifteen ; in them the soil needs 
only water to produce thirty and sixty and a hundred-fold. But 
between one such valley and the next, intervene from five to fifty 
miles of rocky ridges, gravel plains or alkali beds, the first two per- 
haps yielding bunch grass, the last a waste. In Nevada the propor- 
tion of good land is much less: in Wyoming least of all, though that 
Territory has immense tracts of good grazing land. Up to 5,000 feet 
above the sea all the fruits and grains of the temperate zones are 
produced in abundance, above that the products lessen rapidly. In a 
few places wheat can be grown at or above the 6,000 foot level ; rye 
and oats 2,000 feet higher, and near Central City, Colorado, I have 
seen heavy crops of potatoes produced at 9,000 feet above the sea. 
Even the highest parks, where the snow is six feet deep in winter, and 
does not melt away till the middle of May, often produce heavy crops 
of grass; but neither fruit nor grain can be grown there. 

The want of water hinders settlement in many places where the 
land is fertile. If every drop in Utah were utilized, it would not 
irrigate one-tenth of the Territorv. If the Ohio River were turned 
into the north-west corner of the Great Basin, not a drop of it would 
ever reach the Colorado above ground ; the hot sun, dry air, gravel 
beds and alkali plains would absorb it all. Southward this difficulty 
steadily increases ; the water is scantier while more is needed. In the 
Rio Grande Valley a given area requires from two to three times as 
much water as in the Platte Valley. The Mormons in Arizona put five 
times as much water on an acre as the Mormons in Idaho. The trav- 
eler among the mountains of the Great Basin finds in the higher 
canons hundreds of streams of which not one survives to reach the 
valley ; scores of " rivers " are marked upon the maps, which do not 
contain a droji of water after the first of June. South of latitude 37° 



126 WESTERN WILDS. 

or 38°, even the attempt to secure a reservoir for the summer irriga- 
tion fails; when the Avater above the dam has risen two or three- 
feet, it seeks an underground course through the porous soil, and 
when most needed the aguada is dry. In Arizona I found evidences 
that the old race (Aztec or Toltec?) had tried to remedy this by "pud- 
dling" the bottom of the aguada, in places even laying it with bricks 
made of most tenacious clay; but even they were in time compelled to 
abandon most of the valleys by the ever-increasing drought. 

A Western man may be allowed a smile at the suggestion of Pres- 
ident Grant, that all the streams issuing eastward from the Rocky INIount- 
ains might be utilized by a great National work, so as to irrigate all 
the plains. Such a work would cost hundreds of millions, while every 
drop of water in all those streams would not irrigate one-tenth of the 
vast slope extending three hundred miles eastward from the mountains. 
Many suggestions are made as to new methods of cultivation to meet 
the difficulties. Drought might possibly be overcome, but I see not 
how rocky flats, gravel -beds and plains of sand and alkali can ever be 
made productive. If there is a total change in the climate, corres- 
ponding changes in the land will of course follow in due time; but 
that does not seem to me imminent. To sum up : At least nine-tenths 
of America between longitude 100° and 120° seem to me irredeemable 
(for agriculture) by any art now known to man. 

Important political consequences follow. Such a country can never 
sustain a dense population. The isolated trading town or mining 
hamlet, with perhaps half a dozen cities of 50,000 people, and detached 
farming settlements, will occupy a very small portion of the whole 
area; all the rest will be the range of the nomadic hunter or herds- 
man. The limit of rapid settlement, (unless from a mining excite- 
ment,) is already reached ; the phenomena of swiftly growing States 
like Iowa and Illinois will never be witnessed again in this country. 
None of the Territories, except possibly Dakota, is increasing in popu- 
lation as fast as are the States. Utah, for instance, has been settled 
thirty years by a race whose constant boast is their prolificacy ; it has 
barely 100,000 people. This, the most loudly blowed and persistently 
advertised of the whole sisterhood, has been knocking for admission 
into the Union since 1849 ; yet it has but one-tenth the population of 
New York City, two-fifths that of Cincinnati, and nothing like the 
wealth or intelligence of a first-class county in Ohio. In the pro- 
posed State one Mormon would have a power in the United States 
Senate equal to that of thirty Christians in Ohio, or fifty in New 
York. In Nevada the inequality is far worse, though that State has 



TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. 127 

wealth and intelligence to aid us. Wyoming can not sustain a popu- 
lation equal to that of Rhode Island ; Idaho is scarcely more fertile ; 
the child is not born that will live to see half a million people 
resident in the Great Basin. Colorado, has a population nearly equal 
to that of Utah; New Mexico has a population equal perhaps to that 
it had three hundred years ago. 

It is evident that our form of government must be modified for 
such communities. Ideal civil systems may furnish amusement for 
scholars ; but a people can only use such a goverment as it has grown 
to. That " lynch law " should largely prevail all over the West, was 
as natural, nay, as imperative, as that common and statute law should 
prevail in New England. Wyoming, for instance, contains 98,000 
square miles, and less than 20,000 people ; an area more than twice the 
size of Pennsylvania, with half the population of an average county ! 
Along the Pacific Railway, in the southern part of the Territory, are 
a few trading towns ; all the rest is grassy plains, mountain and desert, 
traversed only by mining, wooding, hunting or herding parties. A 
criminal can take a horse from any town and be in the trackless wilder- 
ness in two hours. When arrested according to statute a posse must 
convey him perhaps hundreds of miles, to the nearest jail, and all the 
witnesses must take the same trip three or four times. Perhaps before 
final trial there is a mining " stampede," or an Indian war, and all the 
witnesses leave. It would never do. Justice must be broug-ht home 
to every little hamlet, and so the Themis of the Rocky ]\Iountains is a 
wild huntress. The few inhabitants must act promptly before the 
criminal has time to escape ; if it is rape, arson, murder or an aggra- 
vated case of horse-stealing, he dies ; if a minor oflFense, a severe cow- 
hiding suffices. Who shall blame them ? Justice must be administered, 
or no man's life is safe an hour. It is charged that they sometimes 
make mistakes. I have not heard that the regular courts are infallible. 

The Territories M'ill soon present an awkward question. It will 
never do to admit any more "rotten-borough" States; it would de- 
moralize the Senate, and destroy all decent respect for the Federal 
system. We have already gone dangerously near to that consumma- 
tion. In certain contingencies one-fifth of the people could elect a 
President against the united voice of the four-fifths. And yet the 
territorial condition is anomalous, and to some extent unrepublican. 
A great reform would be to allow them to choose all their executive 
officers; the President to appoint only such officials as attend to 
United States business. Utah might be annexed entire to Nevada ; 
the two would then make a State with population enough for one 



128 WESTERN WILDS. 

Representative in Congress — this to be done after Brigliam Young 
dies, and the INIormon Church ceases to rule. The otiier Territories 
might be given more self-government, without the gross injustice of 
making them States, wiiich is almost as great a wrong to them as 
to the older States. It is self-evident that an alpine region like 
Wyoming, needs a totally different government from that of a level 
State like Illinois. Perhaps the cantonal system might be the best, as 
far as it gives each little valley local self-government. 

The present system is an affliction to the pioneers. Had not Utah 
stood in the way as a possible danger, it would have been remedied 
ere this. The demand for good apj^ointees from the President is al- 
most futile. The sad fact is: Government can not ff^brd good men 
in office in most of the Territories ; the salaries are so much less than 
they can make at any legitimate business. And worse still, when 
they try to do their duty they are almost certain to be removed be- 
fore they learn how. An Eastern man is worth very little his first 
year or two in any Territory. The official, if honest, is exposed to a 
constant pressure from those ruled over, and a constant war on the 
President to have him removed. If he had no care but doing his 
duty, he would still have trouble enough ; but efficiency and duty are 
no dependence ujjon the favor of the administration ; * and while the 
official in the Territory is harassed by complaints, by a salary insuffi- 
cient for himself and family, by the damning criticisms or equally 
damning overpraise of the local press, he is more and more disquieted 
by notes from his friends at Washington, where the fiat of Executive 
wrath hangs daily over his official head, like the ever-trembling 
sword of Damocles suspended by a single hair. There are men in 
every territorial capital who turn uneasily upon their beds from 
some dark hint in the evening paper, and whose matin slumbers are 
disquieted by anxiety for the morning paper, to see " the latest from 
Washington." Let certain members and senators die, or resign, or 
be defeated, or differ with the President on some pet scheme, and 
away their heads would go like pins from the alley; and the more 
they had done their duty the more they might expect decapitation. 
Hear, then, my conclusion of the whole matter: the system should be 
completely reorganized, so as to give the Territories self-government, 
and allow their delegates in the House to vote as well as talk ; then 
they should so remain, to be hunting and roving ground for the rest of 
the nation till climate and soil change, or some other cause shall have 
made them rich and populous. 
* Written previous to March 4, 1877. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE MISSOURI VALLEY. 

^ At noon of a scorching day, our party landed from a Missouri Pa^ 
cific train in Kansas City— a modern Rome built on seventeen hills 
instead of seven. Its citizens have ambitious hopes equal to those of 
ancient Romans, but for commerce instead of war. Real estate is set 
on edge in Kansas City ; so it logically follows there is twice the profit 
in it. So the citizens would seem to judge, from the prices they ask 
for lots. A new-comer, looking for an investment, was pointed to a 
cone-shaped tract by the owner who was willing to sell, 

"But isn't it too steep and rough?" he asked. 

^' Just what you want," was the reply; "see that lot down there ?"-^ 
pointing to a funnel-shaped plat some hundreds of feet below— "well, 
the man that owns that will give you |5,000 for this hill to level up 
his lot with." 

Next day he was approached by the owner of the lower lot. "Is n't 
it too low and M-et? " he asked. ". Oh, my goodness, no ! D'you see 
that hill •? Well, the owner of that has got to level it, and he'll give 
you $1,000 for the privilege of dumping it on this lot." The "pil- 
grim " did not invest. 

This is the metropolis of western Missouri and eastern Kansas, and 
adds immensely to the wealth and population of Jackson County— the 
" Land of Zion," according to the revelations of Joe Smith. Hither 
in the s'pring of 1831, came the Mormon Prophet and followers, lo- 
.cated the. New Jerusalem at Independence, and prophesied a greater 
glory than earth had ever known. They notified the citizens that it 
was idle for them to open farms or build houses ; they were standing 
in the way of the Lord, who would sweep the land with destruction. 
But the Gentiles saw the matter in a different light ; they gathered 
their forces, and after a sharp fight, in which two were killed and 
many hurt, drove the Saints across the Missouri into Clay County. 
Jackson now contains a population equal to that of Utah, and five 
times as much wealth. It is indeed a goodly land. Prairie and grove 
alternate in pleasing variety; every commanding knoll is t\xQ site of a 
neat hamlet, every little grove contains a tasteful farm-house, while the 

y (139) 



\?)0 WES TEEN WILDS. 

open prairie is rich in all the fruits and grains of this clime. The 
Saints made a good selection for Zion. Could they have held it, they 
would doubtless have prospered as have the Gentiles; but the Prophet 
l)roposed, and the Missourians disposed , and things are as they are. 

Thence we crossed the Kaw into Kansas, and in a two hours' ride 
up the heavily wooded valley of that stream reached Lawrence, the 
Athens of the Missouri valley, a town rich in historic interest and' 
pleasant to dwell in. In the summer of 1849, a party of gold-hunters 
camped for the night near the junction of the Kaw and Wakarusa, 
where the level prairie of the lower valley begins to yield to higli 
ridges and rolling plains. They were enchanted with the beauty of 
the spot, and on their return from California organized a company in 
Massachusetts ; again sought this spot, and founded Lawrence, a lone 
settlement of " Free-State men," forty miles from the slave border. 
The city has already an ancient and a modern history, a mythical and 
a heroic age. In its first three years it suffered four regular invasions 
from INIissouri. In March, 1855, the "border ruffians " came, and 
made a po])ulation of nine hundred and sixty-two appear to cast a vote 
of a thousand and thirty-four. In November, 1855, occurred the 
"Wakarusa War;" the town was regularly besieged, and several men 
killed. May 21, 1856, Sheriff Jones " executed the writ" of Judge 
Ijccompte, by burning the Free-State Hotel, and ])illaging the town. 
But freedom gained the day in Kansas, and the city grew. The Eld- 
ridge House was built on the site of the Free-State Hotel, and Kansas 
went through the Avar for the Union " 5,000 men ahead of all drafts," 

But the worst was to come. At daylight of August 21, 1863, 
Quantrell and his gang of two hundred murderers dashed into tbo 
place ; the rising sun saw the city in flames, and a hundred and 
twentv-fivc citizens lying dead among the ruins. Eighteen more 
afterwards died of their wounds. In the horrid annals of Western 
barbarism, only the Mountain Meadow Massacre can rival it: this, 
by a community educated under the discipline of slavery; that, by a 
community educated umler the discipline of polygamy. At one house 
two men were killed, and, in the presence of their shrieking wives, 
their heads were cut oif, and stuck upon the gate-posts! Agnin the 
city rose from its ruins, and grew more rapidly than ever. Verily, it 
took men to settle such a place and hold it for freedom. But 

"The grain of God springs up 
From ashes beneatli ; 
And the crown of Ilis liarvcst 
Is life ont of deatii." 
And Lawrence is now beyond question the most moral and intelli- 



THE BIISSOURI VALLEY. 131 

gent city in the Far West. Ten churches, two daily, two semi- 
weekly and four weekly papers, all well supported by a population 
of 15,000, attest this statement. It is one of the very few places I 
visit in the West at which I always want to stop and pitch my tent 
for a life-time. 

Thence by way of the Leavenworth, Lawrence & Galveston 
Railroad, we journey up the valley of the Vfakarusa, and through 
a dense grove -of elm, walnut, ash, and hackberry. But a few miles 
bring us out upon the high and rolling prairies, covered with a 
variety of bright flowers and native grasses, where we find a strange 
mingling of Northern and Southern scenery. The year 1871, that 
of our journey, was the wettest Kansas had ever known; but it 
is never too wet, and farm products of all kinds were abundant. 
Three years later came drought, with it chintz-bugs and grass- 
hoppers, and after it destitution. Experience has shown that these 
dry seasons must be looked for at least once in seven years. At 
Ottawa, in the rich valley of the Marais des Cygnes, we find a more 
Southern population than that of Lawrence, but no less active in 
their own interests. A Southern "Yankee" is the most crafty of 
the class, as witness this little incident : In the early days a popular 
clergyman of Ottawa sold what he averred to be a " blooded mare " 
to one of his deacons. Shortly after, the deacon observed some 
motions in his purchase he did not like, and sought the minister's 
study with — 

"Brother K , that mare I bought of you seems a little stiff 

in the shoulders." 

Drawing a fine Partaga from "between his lips, the reverend 
pleasantly rejoined, 

"Better not mention that, deacon; it might injure the sale of 
her." 

New light broke into the deacon's mind. He "farewelled," iind 
took his leave. 

South of the Marais des Cygnes we rise to the Ozark Ridge, 
" divide " between the waters flowing North and those draining into 
the Neosho, a high and rocky tract which for ten miles or more in 
width is of little value except for grazing. The rock lies in thin 
layers but a few inches below the surface, which is largely dotted 
with "buffalo stamps." These are said to have been caused by buf- 
faloes crowding together, stamping and licking the ground, led thereto 
by a saline element in the soil. Our domestic cattle, naturalized in 
Kansas, sometimes acquire the same habit. Thence we run down 



132 WESTERN WILDS. 

a long and beautiful slope, fertility increasing with every mile, into 
Allen County, the agricultural center of Southern Kansas. Ten 
days we traveled about in Allen, gathering figures as to climate, 
crops, and the price of lands — all included in a later chapter. This 
county already contains a population of twelve or fifteen thousand, 
an enterprising and intelligent people. Iron bridges span the Ne- 
osho ; the roads are equal to those in the East ; churches and schools 
abound, and the immigrant finds himself in the center of an organ- 
ized and progressive commonwealth. There are more intelligent 
men than new communities can usually boast ; music is extensively 
cultivated, and the common schools are modeled after the plan of 
those of Massachusetts. 

Seeing that we were eager for information (our business was to 
furnish facts to intending emigrants), the old settlers gave us good 
measure. In their ' account there never was so rich, so great, so 
prosperous a region, never such another chance to make money; the 
towns were all certain to make great cities ; lots were sure to double 
in price in a year ; pure fat might run in the furrows, and corn be 
made to tassle and silk in greenbacks; one's children would grow fat 
by mere contact with the soil, and his wife resume the beauty of her 
youth ; roasted shoats, with knife and fork stuck in their backs, would 
in due time rub against him and beg to be eaten, and such robust 
health enliven his frame that when he longed for death he must move 
back East. One resident of Deer Creek, we were assured, had lived 
so long that life was a burden (to his heirs, probably). Weary of 
existence, he moved back to Illijiois, aud there succeeded in giving 
up the ghost, having first stipulated that he should be buried on his 
Kansas farm. But such were the life-giving properties of this soil, 
that, when laid in it, animation returned to his limbs, his heart 
resumed its pulsations, and the incorrigible centenarian walked forth, 
to the disgust of his heirs, and the confusion of those who had doubts 
about Kansas. 

Three years after our visit came the notalde dry year ; seven years 
of good crops had made them careless, and from 1873 till 1875 some 
of the people of Southern Kansas actually suffered for the necessaries 
of life. Will experience make them more provident, or will it con- 
tinue to be a feast or a famine with them? 

Continuing our examination of rural Kansas, by successive stages 
southward, we passed next into Neosho County, a tract of great fertil- 
ity, but largely unsettled, much of the land still belonging to the rail- 
roads. Thence we bore down into Mont<2:omerv Countv, and traversed 



THE MISSOURI VALLEY. 133 

the beautiful slopes bordering the Verdigris River: a region of inex- 
haustible richness, and dotted at irregular intervals by those cone- 
shaped mounds of rock and gravel, which are the delight of the trav- 
eler and the despair of science. Some are perfectly circular, rising 
abruptly from the plain with a rocky wall of from ten to thirty feet in 
height, upon which stands the cone of loam and clay, often crowned 
with a pretty clump of trees and bushes. Others rise in long swells, 
abrupt at one end and sloping gradually to the plain at the other; 
and still others are mole-shaped, of every length from fifty to ten 
thousand feet, and from fifty to a hundred feet in height. A few have 
large tracts of fertile land on top, and farms have been located on 
their summits. Cherryvale, then terminus of the L. L. & G. R. R., 
was our last stopping-place — a lively town of great pretensions. As 
laid off, it is about the size of Cincinnati ; but only a half dozen 
squares are built up yet. Thence, late in July, we turned northward 
to hunt the cooler sections of the valley. 

The Southern Kansian we found to be a good fellow, but somewhat 
prone to the marvelous and romantic. " Snake stories " were abun- 
dant. Those reptiles are common, but seldom dangerous. The most 
formidable looking is the " bull-snake," so called, an immense thing 
of four or five feet in length, which gets its name from its blunt head 
and thick, clumsy body. Strangers often mistake its resonant hiss 
for the rattle of the real crotalus horridus, or rattlesnake. The only 
dangerous snakes are the little "prairie rattlers," seldom over two 
feet long; they are dull and sluggish, rarely bite, and their bite, I 
believe, never proves fatal. But they serve an admirable purpose for 
local romancers. A settler told us of one which bit his horse : the 
animal fell dead, and when he examined the wound, the marks of the 
upper and lower fangs were four inches apart! Discount sixty per 
cent, when a Kansian talks about snakes. Another told of stirring 
up an immense rattler while he was hoeing corn. He aggravated it 
till it struck its fangs into the hoe-handle, then killed it, and was 
proceeding with his work, when he observed the handle growing 
larger, perceptibly swelling with the poison. This continued for an 
hour, when " the eye of the hoe popped out." Of course the triehinte 
spiralis was peculiarly bad in such a country. We were told of one 
man in Doniphan County, who read all the accounts of that news- 
paper epidemic, and in turn felt all the symptoms described. He had 
the "spirals" bore through his skin; in fact got decidedly "woijmy." 
So he took a powerful emetic, and threw up three or four handfuls 
of pork worms, three lizards, a section of the worm of the still, 



134 WESTERN WILDS. 

two biill-snukes, and a few rods of worm-fence, after which, adds the 
local chronicle, he began to feel better. 

From (Ottawa we took the Kansas City brancli of the road, passing 
through the beautiful farming regions of Johnson County; and from 
Kansas City the Missouri Valley Road to Leavenworth. Railroads 
have been built for future rather than present demands in Kansas; 
and the reaction in 1873, as it prevented the rapid growth which was 
expected, has caused many an investor to wail for his money in rail- 
way stocks. Ten years from now Kansas railroads will pay div- 
idends ; at present running expenses only are counted on. The first 
station out is Wyandotte, with perhaps 3,000 people, once a rival, now 
" merely a feeder of Kansas City." A little farther on is tlie twice- 
dead Quindaro, once the great city (to be) of this valley. In 1857 
and 1858, it supported a rattling daily paper known as the Quindaro 
Chindowan. The first was the name of the Delaware Indian woman 
who sold the plat to the whites ; the second, in the same tongue, 
means " a bundle of rods " — the sign of authority. Its bright and 
saucy editorials excelled all specimens extant of Kansas blowing. 
Here was to be a second Babylon, a city founded on a rock, while 
Wyandotte, on the sand, Avould sink to nothingness; here was to be the 
entrepot of all travel from the plains; Kansians would certainly pat- 
ronize their own town rather than cross the Kaw into Missouri, and 
here would be the metropolis of the glorious free and boundless West. 
But an inscrutable law of nature has determined the location of great 
cities ; Kansas City got all the trade, Wyandotte stood still, and Quin- 
daro disappeared. The site was entirely abandoned for some years, 
and is now occupied by a few farmers. The original locators had 
kept even by selling lots ; later buyers were ruined. 

Leavenworth and Atchison we voted " dull," and passed on to Troy, 
the neat little capital of Doniphan County, and another "city" which 
had outlived its first aspirations. So many "cities" were laid oif and 
incorporated in Kansas that a wag in the first Free-State Legislature 
gravely proposed a law " to reserve every fourth section of land for 
agricultural purposes." Doniphan County is the oldest part of Kansas; 
the region is rolling or hilly, but the soil is fertile, and timber and run- 
ning water abundant. The junction of the Atchison and Nebraska 
Road with the St. Joseph and Denver City Road, is a mile south- 
west of Troy, giving the traveler the benefit of an omnibus ride up 
"Almond Avenue." At the corner of the avenue and Broadway, I 
noticed a fine herd of cattle grazing, and through this part of the city 
the stock have kicked down the surveyor's stakes, so it is difficult for 



THE MISSOURI VALLEY. 135 

one to find his high-priced property. Between Spruce and Elm 
Streets was a fine field of corn, and just beyond, in the north-east 
corner of the city plat, we found the village of Troy. 

After a week there, and a visit to the Otoe Reservation, just over 
the line in Nebraska, we again turned northward. From Troy to 
Elmwood, opposite St. Joseph, we pass rapidly over a down grade. 
St. Joseph looked beautiful from the western bank of the Missouri, 
but like most of the towns along that stream, was quiet in 1871. The 
reaction from the speculative fever of 1864-70, which culminated in 
the panic of 1873, came on two years earlier in the West than in the 
East. Men who felt themselves growing weaker, withdrew distant 
investments and concentrated their strength nearer home. Thence 
we moved up the Missouri Valley, by way of the Kansas City, St. Joseph 
nnd Council Bluffs Road ; all the way through grassy meadows or 
wooded vales, stretching from river to bluffs, where not one acre in 
ten is fenced or cultivated, and there is always a gentle breeze and 
freedom from dust. Few trips are so enjoyable. It is strange that so 
little of that broad, rich valley is occupied; it is in easy reach of mar- 
ket, and the Nebraska side is well settled. It is observable that the 
eastern margin of all these new States is settled more thickly than the 

western border of the „__ 

States next east of 
them. Cities on the 
western banks of 
streams grow faster 
than those on the east- 
ern, and railroads run- 
ning east and west 
seem to have more life 
and energy than those running north and south. Before one State is 
filled to the western border, another is opened and surveyed, and em- 
igrants seem to prefer the newer one. Another cause, perhaps, is that 
large grants of Iowa land were made to railroads. There were five 
such strips granted across the State, besides several smaller ones; on 
the Nebraska side the grants run westward from the river, and not 
parallel with it. Within railroad grants the settler can only take 
eighty acres, for which he must pay $2.50 per acre ; outside of them 
he can take a hundred and sixty at half the price per acre. 

Omaha and Council Bluffs we also found dull ; clerks had time to 
read the papers, and the stir which attended the last two years of con- 
structing the Union Pacific was conspicuously lacking. Thence to 




"GREAT EXPECTATIONS." 



136 WESTERN WILDS. 

Sioux City we traveled by way of the Sioux City and Pacific Railroad. 
All this distance, one hundred miles, is over the broad, level valley of 
the Missouri. The lower part of the valley is wet, and largely occupied 
by sloughs and old bayous. That region is settled only on the border- 
ing highlands and slopes. This improves as we go northward; Onawa 
and Woodbury are fair villages in fine stretches of land, and near 
Sioux City the country is higher and better improved. That city had 
held its own better than most places on the Missouri. At one time it 
was intended that the Union Pacific should run Avestward from that 
point, and up the valley of the Niobrara. But mysterious influences 
were at Avork at Washington, and Sioux City lost that advantage. She 
now has, however, four lines of railroad, including that to Yankton. 

From Missouri Valley Junction to Sioux City the passengers Avere a 
ncAV set entirely. There were emigrants for North-Avest loAAa or Da- 
kota, Indian traders or agents, cattle dealers Avho had army contracts, 
herders, fur dealers, officers and soldiers for the posts on the Upper 
Missouri, and a sprinkling of passengers for the Red Ri\'er of the 
North, Pembina, and the British Possessions. From Sioux City Ave 
took stage for Yankton. The night had been rainy, and the mud 
Avas like glue. A tenacious mixture of clay and sand, mingled Avith 
prairie grass, Avould collect on the Avheels till they resembled vast re- 
voh'ing cylinders, then fall off in immense Avads, each Aveighing at least 
a hundred pounds. Through this Ave toiled for tAventy miles, reaching 
a better country, dotted Avith fine farms and neat cottages. In the cor- 
ner betAA'cen the Big Sioux and Missouri is a French settlement ; 
further on are Scandinavian and Bohemian villages. The settled part 
of the Territory is largely filled Avith foreigners — all industrious, and 
most of fair intelligence. In the A^alley of the Missouri there is a 
nearly level flood plain, of inexhaustible richness, and adorned by 
hea\'y bodies of timber along the streams. The heaA'v fields of grain 
AA'ere ripe, and in them Avere Danes and NorAA^egians at AAork, men and 
AA'omen binding Avheat together in happy equality. The AAomen Avere 
e\^ery whit as stout as the men, and seemed to endure the heat equally 
AA^ell. Anthony, Stanton, and LiA'ermore Avould haA-e preached Avom- 
ans' rights to them in A'^ain. WhatcA'er rights they AA'anted they 
took, and thought no more about it. Outsiders ha\'e repeatedly peti- 
tioned the Dakota Legislature to enfranchise the sex, and have as often 
been refused. The residents care nothing about it, and evidently haA'e 
an eye to the utility of woman, rather than her rights. 

Fourteen hours staging from Sioux City brought us to Yankton, 
the ambitious capital of Dakota, Avherc I spent a Aveek Avith my 



THE MISSOURI VALLEY. 137 

brother, then Surveyor-General of the Territory. This place has the 
only first-rate site for a city above the mouth of the Big Sioux, and is 
the natural discharge depot of all the farming section of Dakota. Not 
more than one-third of that Territory is fertile land, and that lies al- 
most entirely in the eastern and southern sections. Along the Big 
Sioux, James River and Red River a fertile strip, nearly one hundred 
miles wide, extends from the Missouri to the British line, while on the 
south a narrow arm runs up the Missouri. Thus the good land lies 
much in the shape of a V, the left arm being much shorter and more 
narrow. Go northward and westward from these tracts, and you rise 
by imperceptible stages : first to a strip of second-class land, then to a 
tract fit only for grazing, and finally to complete desert, the last known 
as the couteau or mauvaiscs terres (" Bad- lands"). Enthusiastic pro- 
moters of railroad stocks have told us how easily these barren tracts 
are to be redeemed, but the author begs leave to dissent. 

All the white inhabitants are in the extreme southern or north-east- 
ern sections — the latter so far away from Yankton that Congress has 
lately listened to their repeated appeals for a separate government. 
They are in the noted Pembina region, a section older in history than 
Iowa ; a section I visited the next year, and found a delightful coun- 
try — for Hyperboreans. All the rest of Dakota is occupied by strag- 
gling bands of Sioux — the original Romans of the North-west — whose 
business and amusements were to hunt buffaloes and Pawnees. The 
former furnished them with food, clothing, lodge-covers, bow-strings, 
and a dozen other conveniences ; the latter Avith victims for the stake 
and torture. Of late years, by union with the whites, the Pawnees 
have turned the tables very handsomely on their old foes. The Sioux 
at the lower agencies and about Yankton are " civilized ;" they dress 
^omewliat like white men, raise some grain, swear, gamble, and drink 
whisky. At the agency near Yankton they have a flourishing church 
(Episcopalian), and publish a weekly paper in the Sioux language. ' It 
is called lapi Oahye — meaning *' Talk carried about" — is Republican in 
politics, and ardently supports President Grant's "humanitarian pol- 
icy" toward the Indians. 

The spurs of the Black Hills project into Western Dakota, and all 
the adjacent region consists of a series of lofty plateaus, either totally 
barren or scantily clothed with grass. With an area of 150,000 square 
miles, the Territory has a body of fertile land as large as Indiana, as 
much more good grazing land, and at least twice as much of desert. 
The fertile sections will some day support an immense population of 
the North-European races, and, in due time, form a prosperous State. 



138 



WESTERN WILDS. 



As I have since visited all sections of the Missouri Valley, a few gen- 
eral notes are in order. 

Tliis valley is only the lowest and richest part of that great section 
known as the '* plains" — an inclined plane, from four to six hundred 
miles wide, between the river and the eastern base of the Rocky 




DAKOTAS TORTURING A PAWNEE. 



Mountains, and stretching from Texas far into British America. Di- 
vide this region into three equal strips north and south, and the east- 
ern strip will comprise nearly all fertile land, the western nearly all 
barren plains and grazing land, and the middle a mi-xture of the two. 



THE MISSOURI VALLEY. • 139 

Let one start "vvliere he will on the Missourij and travel westward on 
any section line, he will for the first seventy-five miles traverse a region 
rich in landed wealth; the "bottoms" of inexhaustible fertility, the 
slopes and upland equal to any wheat lands in the world. Every- 
where rich prairie grasses are mingled with bright-hued flowers, with 
the colors of the tropical and temperate climes. Continuing westward, 
he will notice a disappearance of the timber along the streams; it 
shrinks to gnarled and twisted shrubs, contending feebly for life 
against drought and annually recurring fires. Two hundred miles out, 
the verdure of the Missouri Valley disappears ; gama grass and bufPalo 
grass begin to take its place, and only the lower valleys contain culti- 
•rable land. Another hundred miles will take him into a region where 
farming land is the rare exception, and where even the high plains are 
dotted by tracts of alkali — the range of the buffalo and antelope. In 
the strip along the Missouri, with an average width of a hundred and 
fifty or two hundred miles, will be located all the agricultural population 
of Kansas and Nebraska; in the same strip continued northward along 
the Big Sioux and Red River, all that of Dakota, and southward the 
same in the Indian Territory. All the rest, to the Rocky Mountains, 
will be the range of the nomadic hunter and herdsmen. But in the 
fertile strip thus bounded are still a hundred thousand square miles 
unoccupied, of the best land in America — a domain to support in afflu- 
ence ten million people. Its development will not probably be as 
rapid as that of Iowa or Illinois, for reasons already given ; but ere an- 
other generation has passed, the States of Pembina (Huron?), Dakota, 
and Oklahoma will take their places beside Kansas and Nebraska. 

The middle of August I joined an excursion party at Omaha, and 
with them made my eleventh trip over the Union Pacific. The broad 
plains of Nebraska, the rugged mountains of Wyoming, the great desert 
and the plains of Bridger, the alkaline flats of Bitter Creek, and the 
wild beauty of Echo and Weber Canons, had lost none of their interest 
by a short absence ; and I arrived at my old home in Utah more than 
convinced that Western life was the thing for my health and happiness. 
A brief rest among the Saints and Gentiles, and our party moved on to 
San Francisco, where we girded up our loins for the high climbs 
among the wonders of the Sierras. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 

All aboard for Yosemite and the Big Trees ! How the mind 
swells as these words are called through the hotel, and the fancy- 
paints what is to come : giant vegetation and wondrous woods ; the 
work of riotous nature in a tropical clime and fertile soil, exceeding 
all the wonders of romance with growing reality; rocky canons and 
happy valleys ; glacier-hewn cliifs, reared thousands of feet in the air ; 
waterfalls and mirror lakes ; immense flumes, cut by living streams in 
the solid granite; majestic falls, and crystal cascades, foaming from a 
hundred hills. 

But between us and these w^onders intervene many miles of weari- 
some travel, days of toil and nights of broken rest. Before my visit 
I wondered that so many excursionists visited California, and never 
went to Yosemite or the Big Trees. I wonder no longer; for the trip 
is one which may well make the most hardy hesitate, though truly as- 
sured that in the end he shall see wonders that have no equal upon 
this planet. Two hundred and fifty miles of staging upon the rocky 
Sierras, beneath an August sun, and half the time enveloped in red 
dust, are enough to make one seriously ask. Does it pay to visit 
Yosemite ? 

We leave chilly " Frisco " at 4 P. M., and spend the night at Stock- 
ton, experiencing in that short distance about as great a change of 
climate as if we should go in Aprit from Chicago to New Orleans. 
Thence at daylight we take the Stockton and Copperopolis Railroad, 
which runs to Milton, where the foothills begin. In California, every 
thing under two thousand feet high is called a hill ; if it leads up to a 
mountain, a foothill. At 8 o'clock, of a sultry morning, we take the 
stage at Milton and strike north-east, over a dusty road, cheered at 
rare intervals by a transient breath of wind. 

Copperopolis is one of the dead mining towns of the Sierras, built 
in "the great copper excitement." Its history is like that of other 
mining towns which did not happen to be located in the right place; 
all summed up in the Piiite Indian's comment: "Koshbannim! heap 
money spend ; goddam, no ketch 'urn." 

(140) 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



141 



From noon till 5 P. M., we endure the thumping of a Concord 
coach over the Sierra spurs, those within frying, those without broil- 
ing; in vall.eys where the thermometer stands in dead air at 100°, or 
over ridges where the stifling dust is mitigated sometimes by a gentle 
breeze. This all the way to Murphy's, another old mining town, 
where we receive the cheering intelligence that the real trouble of the 
route is about to begin. We change from the 
coach to a "mountain-wagon" — so-called — a 
street hack with three seats and no springs — 
capital thing for a torpid liver. Despite the 
jolting, our condition is improved. We leave 
the dust; for there is not soil enough up here 
to create it. We run beside clear, cold streams. 
We are in a region of cool airs. The road is 
shaded by rocky cliffs, or on the levels by tall 
timber; and the wild ever-varying beauty of 
gorge, crag, or wooded flat make-, u^ forget 
fatigue. 

The vegetation changes as 
we gain in elevation. The 
shrubby manzanita, dwarfisli 
oak, and arrowwood disap- 
pear, and we are in a magnif- 
icent forest of tall trees with- 
out underbrush. Every mile 
the trees increase in size; the 
smallest we see for hours are 
three or four feet in thickness, 

and nature seems to usher us -T:?^'^-.^^-'^g^S^^^^^u 
m through fitting portals to '^'"'-■^ ^. ,^'5-%^'"'^ ^ '-^%^-^^:1q^^=s.'- 
the wonders that are to come. <^ '^^^SS^^fe^*'^'^^ aac 

The big trees do not stand the two guardsmen. 

alone in grandeur, as I had supposed ; but, for twenty miles around, 
vegetation shades off" gradually in forests of immense pines. At last 
we reach the borders of " The Grove " par excellence, while there is 
still light enough to appreciate its glories. 

There they stand, the vegetable wonders of the workl : some in 
clusters, joining their branches like the columns of great gothic arches 
reaching away to prop the firmament, or now and then one isolated, 
and stretching out gaunt arms and opening boughs as if it would 
drink the clouds. The majority appear stumpy and truncated, too 




142 



WESTERN WILDS. 




THE FALLEN MONARCH. 



thick for their len<2;th ; but others stretch away in long, graceful col- 
umns of arborescent proportions, height, thickness, and branches, all iu 
such perfect correspondence, that half the effect of their size is lost ; 
there is such harmony iu adjacent trees, and between diiferent parts of 
the same tree, that the sense of size is lessened by that of elegant uni- 
formity. Most of the trees of two or three hundred feet in height, 

have a decidedly stumpy appearance, 
looking like gigantic stubs rather 
than trees. At first view it seemed 
to me the tops must have been broken 
off. The branches add much to this 
illusion from the fact that they bend 
downward, starting even from the 
body of the tree at an angle of twenty 
degrees below the horizontal. This 
is caused by the weight of winter 
snows, continued annually through 
all the thousands of years of their 
growth. The smallest of these adjacent trees in an Ohio forest would 
create astonishment; yet here they appear trifling, as mere striplings 
shading off and filling nature's interval between the mammoths and 
common underbrush. Strangest of all, other things appear much 
dwarfed. As the coach drives between the " Two Guardsmen," at the 
entrance of the Grove, the horses appear like mere ponies, shrunk to 
half their natural size. My companion, as he leans against the mon- 
strous trunk, and extends his arms for me to judge its width by them, 
appears a mere manikin ; the smallest tree, one I had guessed at four 
feet, spreads a foot or two on either side beyond the natural reach of 
his fingers, and dwarfs him amazingly by comjiarison. Here is the 
place for man to realize his littleness. In the evening shades of these 
green arches how naturally the mind reverts to thoughts of the vast, 
the unchangeable, the infinite. Heaven itself seems nearer in our 
thoughts; riotous mirth is hushed; solemn awe fills the soul, and in 
low-toned exclamations alone we briefly converse. 

But forty miles of staging over bowlders and rocky up-grade, with 
dust enough in us to start a second Adam, incline our party to think 
more of supper and bed, than of the biggest trees nature can produce. 
These comforts, first-class, are found at the Big-Tree Hotel, and for a 
summer resort one can spend weeks very pleasantly there. Daylight 
at 4.30 A. M. shone through the green arches with a new and wondrous 
beauty, and we awoke to the contemplation of a new world, another 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



143 



creation, as it were, where nature seems to have proceeded on a special 
plan, too Cyclopean for the common world outside. 

Of course, the first object for to-day is the great fallen tree and 
stump, the latter now covered with a handsome summer-house, and 
fitted up as a pavilion for dancing. The tree as it stood was 302 feet 
in height, and 96 feet in circumference 3 feet from the ground. But 
there is a little of the "brag" in this measurement, as most of these 
trees spread greatly near the ground, and do not assume a symmetrical 




SOMETHING OF A STUMP. 



and tree-like shape before reaching the height of ten feet or more. 
The bark was eighteen inches thick, and the total diameter 28 feel. 
Five men were tAventy days felling it, the object being to have it sawed 
into cross-sections to be shipped eastward and to Europe. The work 
was done with long augers, boring it off little by little; but when en- 
tirely severed, such was the perfect plumb of trunk and branches, that, 
to the amazement of spectators, the tree merely settled down and still 
stood as if refusing, conscious of its majesty, to bow to human endeav- 
ors. Vast wedges were then inserted on the northern side, and driven 
little by little till, heaved beyond the line of gravity, the mighty 
growth came crashing to the ground. It would seem that nature must 
have yielded an audible groan at this desecration. 

A bowling alley was constructed upon the upper portion of the 
trunk, but not proving remunerative, has been removed. The "butt 
cut" of the tree lies as it fell, the top reached by means of a ladder; 



144 WESTERN WILDS. 

then a large portion is gone — sawn out in foot sections and trans- 
ported Eastward. The " Father of the Forest/' largest of all the 
trees, is also prostrate and slightly buried in the ground, having 
evidently fallen many years before the grove was discovered (1852). 
Its circumference at the base is 110 feet; thence it is 200 feet to the 
first branch, the tree hollow all that distance, and through this tube I 
can easily walk erect. Unlike the other, it was evidently much de- 
cayed, and was broken by its fall, besides breaking down several 
smaller trees with it. By the stumps of these it is known to have 
been at least 420 feet in height, and may have been considerably more. 
Near its base is a never-failing spring of clear, cold water. 

"The Mother of the Forest," so named from two round protuber- 
ances on one side, is the largest tree now standing. The bark has 
been removed to the height of 116 feet, but without it the tree is 84 
feet in circumferanee at the base. Twenty feet from the base it 
measures round 69 feet, and thus on, decreasing with elegant regu- 
larity to the height of 321 feet, making this the most symmetrical of 
all the larger trees. And for this reason its vastness is seldom appre- 
ciated at first view. In such fine harmony, the sense of immensity is 
lost. It is not until one has gone around the tree many times, and 
viewed it from different points, that he comprehends its grandeur. 
The bark was from ten to twenty-four inches thick, bulging out- 
wardly in a succession of ellipsoids around the trunk ; it resembles a 
mass of velvety red fibers, and blocks of it are in use all over the 
country as memorial pin-cushions. A practical lumberman of our 
party estimated that this tree contained at least 520,000 feet of sound 
inch lumber. 

Next are the "Husband and Wife," a noble pair of saplings, each 
60 feet around the base, and 250 feet in height, growing near and 
bending lovingly toward each other till their upper branches are min- 
gled in a dense wooden and leafy mass — a canopy sufficient to shade 
5,000 persons! Near by is the "Burnt Tree," prostrate and hollow, 
into which one can ride on horseback for sixty feet. Across the roots 
it measures 39 feet, and from all indications its height must have been 
over 360 feet. The "Horseback Ride" is also hollow its entire 
length ; in the narrowest part the interior is twelve feet wide, and can 
be traversed from end to end. " Uncle Tom's Cabin " is a hollow 
stump in which twenty-five persons can be comfortably seated ; while 
near by the " Three Sisters " stand side by side in graceful amplitude, 
each twenty feet thick and 200 feet high, of exact proportions and 
equidistant from base to crown. 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



145 




^^A 



The trees are mammoth redwoods, assigned by botanists to a class 
known as Sequoia gigantca. In an elaborate description written soon 
after discovery, a patriotic English scien- 
tist christened them the Wellingtonia gi- 
gantea. This roused the jealous ire of 
a California savan, who, in a ludicrous 
.•ipasm of national pride, gave them the 
tspocific title of Washingtonia giganiea. 
But by common consent they are now 
known by the name first mentioned. 
Like all other timber of the Taxoducia 
genus, they are but little subject to de- 
cay, and the most impaired of the fallen 
trunks has undoubtedly been prostrate 
for many hundred years. In this dr 
air, at an elevation of 3,000 feet above 
sea-level, with drought in summer and 
snow in winter, and only the light rains 
of spring and autumn, decay requires 
long periods, compared to which a human 
life seems practically naught. 

We have gazed long upon these bo- 
tanic marvels, and still new beauties ap- 
pear at each new study ; but it is when "' 
we come to estimate their age that amaze- .^ 
raent reaches its climax, and we cm <^uih t 
compare the duration of these mon^tiou- 
trunks with man's brief period ^^ ^^f" 
of growth and decay. The 
trees of this genus require 
twenty years to increase one 
inch in diameter ; the bark 
twice as long to gain the 
thickness of a knife-blade; 
the timber, in a drying air, 
will not perceptibly decay 
within the life-time of man. 
By these and many other 
signs, more than all by the 
number of annular rings, it 
is demonstrated that the largest of the Sequoias must be 3,000 years 





A MONSTER. 



14(5 WESTERN WILDS. 

oltl. Ontlastino: ninety average generations of men ! And the fallen 
ones are probably 1,000 years older. 

And yet these are not the oldest trees in the world. In Africa 
there grows a species of mimosa, M'hich, by the same indications, is 
proved to be 6,000 years old. A sapling when Adam was a strip- 
ling! There seems to be no satisfactory theory to account for their 
growth here. Climate and fertile soil may have done much ; but I 
incline to the belief that they are a sort of relic of the age when 
all vegetation was gigantic ; as one age of geology must have sub- 
sided with easy grades to the next, we may have here the last vege- 
table survivors of the age just before us, and after their fall, no more 
l)ig trees. Eight miles south of here is another collection, known as 
the South Grove, and containing 1,380 trees in close order, averag- 
ing larger than these, but the largest a foot or two less than the 
largest here. But we have seen enough for the present to till the 
mind with images for years, and weary us in conjecture. Time 
presses, and with to-morrow's earliest light we are off for Yosemite. 

From the Big Trees we take the new or mountain road to Yosemite ; 
instead of going back to the valley, we start directly southward across 
Table Mountain, the Stanislaus, Tuolumne, and smaller streams. This 
route takes in the mining and fruit region, and a specimen of all that 
has made California famous. The Sierras have a general course from 
north to south, and a height of from ten to fourteen thousand feet ; and 
from them successive rivers put out westward, each in its upper part 
traversing a mountain gorge or clear-cut canon, which widens west- 
ward to a broad valley bounded by slopes and foothills of genial clime 
and rare fertility. Our southward route, one-third the way up the 
slope of the Sierras, involves great variety ; we come back on the Big 
Tree road to Valleeito, and there take a light wagon to cross Table 
Mountain and the Stanislaus. Parenthetically, the names in this ac- 
count are either Spanish or Indian, and pronounced thus : «SYrt?i-is-lowh, 
Val-le-cfc-to, Tu-o/-un-ny, Mo-/:<'/-un-ny, Gar-ro-ta, Man-zan-ce-ta, 
Cap-i-tow, Mer-c^'cd, Cal-a-re-ras, and Yo-.sT?n-i-ta. 

From the brow of Table Mountain we look down two thousand feet 
upon the Stanislaus, a narrow silvery band flowing down a rocky 
trough. The canon wall seems to stand at a threatening angle of sev- 
enty degrees; but down this slope the stage road goes by a zig-zag, 
first out upon a projecting shelf, where two feet farther Avould send us 
to destruction, and then into a groove in the rocky wall. Down this 
combination of dips, spurs, angles, and sinuosities, the driver takes us 
at full trot, with lines taut and foot on brake, ready to cheek at a mo- 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFOEXZA. 



147 



ment's notice; for an instant moderating to a walk as we make the out- 
ward turn on some rocky flat, then loosing his team to a full run as we 
shoot into the inward grooves, the coach bounding over bowlders or re- 
acting from the stone bulwarks which line the most dangerous places. 
We cringe and close our eyes in many places, or cling to the side of the 




YOSEJIITE FALLS. 

coach, half ashamed of the fear our acts betray ; but before we can 
question, or exclaim a dozen times, we are at the bottom, and ready to 
ferry the Stanislaus. The narrow band, as seen from above, has 
widened to a considerable river, now quite low; but in Minter and 
spring the melting snow from the notched hills 6,000 feet above 
swells this stream to a destructive torrent, risiug fifty feet above its 



148 WESTERN WILDS. 

l)resc'nt level. On the south side another mountain-grooved road 
leads up 2,5()() feet to the divide between the Stanislaus and Tuo- 
lumne. No running here, but with slow steps the steaminu^ horses 
drag us along, and we lounge baek over the eoach seats, gazing al- 
ternately at frowning elitts above and the river sinking in dim per- 
s])eetive below. No wonder that California is producing a new race 
of original poets; for, surely, if a man have the poetic instinct, this 
clime and scenery will bring it out in tropic luxuriance, and cause 
his genius to put forth wondrous growths of freshness and quaint 
originality. This society, these scenes and this clime — Italy and 
Switzerland combined — are the true home of poetry and romance. 

Two hours of toil bring us to the summit, and thence down a bar- 
ren hollow a sudden turn reveals an oval valley of rare beauty, in 
the midst of which is the pretty town of Columbia, fourteen miles 
from where we changed coaches. Here we enter the great region of 
placer and drift mining, once alive with twenty thousand miners, and 
musical with the hum of an exciting and curious industry. For six 
miles we run among washed-out-placers, beds of "tailings" and 
"poor dirt;" wind around sluice-boxes, or cross ditches which lead in 
the water from a main canal which begins fifty miles up the Stanis- 
laus. At intervals all day we encounter the great ditch of the 
" Union Water Company," sometimes winding along the mountain 
side in rocky flumes, sometimes passing i^eneath us in deep cuts 
through narrow ridges, and as often far above our heads in mid-air 
aqueducts — carried on trestlework for hundreds of feet across a rocky 
hollow — to me a curiosity almost as great as any in the scenery. 
This ditch, built by an incorporated company at an expense of two 
million dollars, begins at the very head of the Stanislaus, where that 
stream is formed by affluents from the melting snows of the Sierras. 
It is sixty miles in length, winding a devious course to preserve its 
level, along the mountains and through gorges down to the foothills; 
furnishes water to a hundred mining camps, and at last, after being 
used, collected, cleared in reservoirs, and used again half a dozen 
times, its water, yellow with the refuse of pay dirt, or red with iron 
dust, sjn-eads in a dozen irrigating streams upon the lower valley. 
Careful study to select the route, skillful engineering to lay it 
out, economy of space and material, perseverance and capital — 
all si)urred on by the love of gold — combined to produce the 
work. 

Mining here began with the "rocker," many of which we see even 
now rotting along the gulches; next came the "long torn," which 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



149 



shares the same fate, and lastly was introduced "piping" and com- 
plete hydraulic mining. Little by little this great industry has 
passed away ; the works are fallen to decay ; the placers are mostly 
worked out; three-fourths of the mining camps are abandoned ; picks 
and " long toms " lie among rocks and debris, and California, from 
an annual production of 
forty millions in gold, has 
sunk to half that amount. 
" Ranching " came next, and 
all this industry is not lost; 
the flumes and water are used 
for irrigation, without which 
the smaller vegetables and 
fruits are not a perfect suc- 
cess. 

Six miles through old 
mines bring us to Sonora, 
where we gladly take a Con- 
cord coach for the rest of 
the trip. Sonora Valley, 
opening to the south-west, 
enjoys an Italian clime, and 
from February to December 
is glorified by flowers of all 
hues. Here we see giant 
oleanders, fifteen feet high, 
which grow out doors all the 
year, and gardens excelling 
the utmost flights of my 
fancy. Apples, p e a c h e s, 
pears, apricots, figs, damsons, grapes, and quinces we see growing lux- 
uriantly in the same inclosure, many now ripe, and aifording most 
grateful refreshment to our heated excursionists. All along the route 
to Yosemite fruit is abundant and cheap — all one can eat for ten 
cents — growing even to within half a day's staging of the valley. 

But this beauty is brief. Right beside these blooming gardens, 
right up against the walls, are worked-out mines, hundreds of acres 
of bare boulders in beds, all the soil " piped " away in search of the 
" pay dirt," which lies below the soil and upon the rocks. A massive 
brick church stands in the south part of the town, around it lies an 
acre of ground dotted with tombstones, the city grave-yard, and up 




EL CAPITAN. 



150 WESTERN WILDS. 

to tlie vorv walls of the inclosnrc the dirt is washed away down to an 
unsightly mass of bare, gray rocks, leaving the church-yard by rare 
grace perched upon an eminence ten feet above the placer flats. 
There the rude forefathers of this mountain hamlet — dead miners by 
scores — lie in "pay dirt" — fit resting place — and their living com- 
])anions seem to have barely respected their last repose. Over all 
this region, with rare exceptions, is a peculiar air of abandon and 
decay; worked-out placers, deserted cabins, dry flumes and sluice- 
boxes falling to pieces, look as though the site were haunted by the 
ghost of former prosperity. Fifteen miles of comfortable staging in 
the valley of the Tuolumne bring us to Chinese Camp, originally set- 
tled by Mongolians working " old diggings," but since mining gave 
place to agriculture, settled by the whites. A few hundred Chinese 
remain, and as we pass the outskirts of the town, we note a rude 
frame tent and beside it a dozen China women chattering and howl- 
ing alternately, and learn that a sick Chinaman has been removed 
there to die. These people never allow one to die in their cabins, if 
it can be decently prevented. 

Here we change again to the stoutest of mountain w'agons ; for, we 
are kindly assured, all the pounding we have suffered is child's play 
to what is to come. Fifteen miles of stony up-grade bring us to Gar- 
rote, which we reach at nine P. M., and gladly sink to sleep. It 
seems that we have but closed our eyes to half forget in sleep the 
beauties or toils of the way, when at three A. M. the call comes to take 
a fresh start. We take the invariable " eye-opener " of ice-cooled Cal- 
ifornia white wine, and after a hasty breakfast are off into a dense 
forest, the daylight breaking grandly through the green arches and 
casting great scallops of light and shade to cheer the still sleepy trav- 
elers. \Ye are out of the foothills, and upon the spurs of the mount- 
ains. The streams are clear as crystal and delightfully cold, for we 
are far above the mining districts and near their snowy sources. 

Vast forests of redwoods and sugar pine, the trees from two to eight 
feet in thickness, shade the way. At every pause we hear a strange, 
solemn murmur from far above our heads, a gentle swell as the mount- 
ain breeze thrills the tree tops, like the far-off' diapason of a mon- 
strous organ, or a gentle tremulo stealing upon the senses -with a 
music all the more subtle that it can not be described. My compan- 
ion, Mr. J. "W. Bookwalter, of Springfield, Ohio, compares the scenery 
to that of a Florida forest of a winter morning. One by one all who 
started Avith us have stopped to rest, but being old travelers, we have 
held on, and to-dav have the coach to ourselves. 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 151 

Before noon we enter the Tuolumne Grove, where many trees are as 
large as the average at Calaveras, but none witliin less than two or 
three feet of the largest there. Over all this part of the Sierras, prob- 
ably forty miles each way, the timber is immense. We drive between 
two trees, each twenty feet in thickness. We find one stump forty 
feet high and twenty-six feet thick, and hundreds scattered for miles 
along the way from ten to eighteen feet thick, and from two hundred 
to two hundred and fifty feet high. If the traveler does not wish to 
make the diversion by Calaveras Grove, he can still enjoy the sight 
of tall timber here, on the direct route to Yosemite. Thirty- 
seven miles from Garrote bring us to Tamarack Flat, the highest point 
on the road, the end of staging, and no wonder. The remaining five 
miles down into the valley must be made on horseback. 

While transferring baggage — very little is allowed — to pack-mules, 
the guide and driver amuse us with accounts of former tourists, partic- 
ularly of Anna Dickinson, who rode astride into the valley, and 
thereby demonstrated her right to vote, drink "cocktails,' bear arms, 
and work the roads, without regard to age, sex, or previous condition 
of servitude. They tell us with great glee of Olive Logan, w^ho, 
when told she must ride thus into the valley, tried practising on the 
back of the coach seats, and when laughed at for her pains, took her 
revenge by savagely abusing every thing on the road. When Mrs. 
Cady Stanton was here a few weeks before, she found it impossible to 
fit herself to the saddle, averring she had not been in one for thirty 
years. Our accomplished guide, Mr. F. A. Brightman, saddled seven 
dift'erent mules for her (she states the fact in her report), and still 
she would not risk it, and "while the guides laughed behind their 
horses, and even the mules winked knowingly, and shook their long 
ears comically, still she stood a spectacle for men and donkeys." In 
vain the skillful Brightman assured her he had piloted five thousand 
persons down that fearful incline, and not an accident. She would 
not be persuaded, and walked the entire distance, equal to twenty 
miles on level ground. 

While we pause, a brief note on the route is in order. From Mil- 
ton, by way of the Big Trees to Yosemite, is 150 miles; and from 
Yosemite back by Chinese Camp direct is 109 miles, making a total 
of staging of 259 miles. Add 100 by rail going to Milton, and 
twenty by rail and 100 by steamer returning, and we have a total of 
220 by rail and steamer, and a grand total of 479 miles in going 
and return. For all this we pay the moderate price of forty-six dol- 
lars per man. To this must be added three dollars per day for nee- 



152 



WESTERN WILDS. 






essaries upon the road, and the same for each day in the valley for 
guide and horse ; that is, if you go to see all that is there, and if 
you do not, you had better not go at all. But hundreds of visitors 
never go out of tlie little open flat around the hotel, contenting them- 
selves with a general view of distant wonders. Horace Greeley, 
when he visited the valley, rode sixty miles on horseback, though he 
had not been in a saddle for twenty years, reach- 
ing the hotel at midnight completely exhausted, 
and minus at least two square feet of abraded 
cuticle. He went supperless to bed, and having 
_ an engage- 

ment to fill, 
left at noon 
next day, and 
the second 
night there- 
after lectured 
at a to w n 
n e a r 1 y t w o 
hundred miles 
away. When 
the railroad 
is completed 
southward to 
the Merced, it 
i s estimated 
that a first- 
class stage- 
road could be 
built from the 
crossing right 
up the Mer- 
ced to the 
Yosemite, for 

$100,000, and certainly the State could not make a better investment. 
The road would have to be blasted out of the foot of the cliifs along 
the gateway, where the Merced flows out of Yosemite; below, the 
grade would not be difficult, and it would save two-thirds of the wear 
at present required. All that man can do has been done on the 
present route, and still the trip is very exhausting. 

With all set and every thing tightly "cinched," we took the start 




BRIDAL VEIL FALL. 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 153 

with guide in front, finding the first mile and a half to Prospect 
Peak not particularly difficult. A sudden turn brings us in view of 
the valley, but little is to be seen as yet; then we emerge from the 
timber upon a shelving rock, and the guide stops for us to take our 
first view at Prospect Peak. We walked out upon the rock, which 
becomes level as we near the edge, with a feeling of disappointment; 
but suddenly, when far enough to see below, we paused and trem- 
bled. Astonishment and awe kept us silent for a moment. At our 
feet yawned a chasm bounded on this side by a precipice with sheer 
descent of near two thousand feet; on the other a mist-enveloped 
cascade poured from heights so high and dim, that to our eyes it 
seemed tumbling from the clouds. Far, far beloM^, the Merced 
foamed through the rocky gateway which forms the outlet of the val- 
ley, while the whole wall below us seemed fringed with pines, jut- 
ting from every crevice, and groM^ng apparently straight into the air 
from the solid wall of rock. 

AVe turn again to the left into a sort of stairway in the mountain 
side, and cautiously tread the stony defile downward; at places over 
loose boulders, at others around or over the points of shelving rock, 
where one false step would send horse and rider a mangled mass two 
thousand feet below, and more rarely over ground covered with 
bushes and grade moderate enough to afford a brief rest. It is im- 
possible to repress fear. Every nerve is tense; the muscles involun- 
tarily make ready for a spring, and even the bravest lean timorously 
toward the mountain side and away from the cliff, with foot loose in 
stirrup and eye alert, ready for a spring in case of peril. The thought 
is vain: should the horse go, the rider would infallibly go with him. 
And the poor brutes seem to fully realize their danger and ours, as 
with wary steps and tremulous ears, emitting almost human sighs, 
with more than brute caution they deliberately place one foot before 
the other, calculating seemingly at each step the desperate chances, 
and intensely conscious of our mutual peril. We learn with surprise 
that of all the thousands who have made this passage, not one has 
been injured. Such a route would be impassable to any horse but 
these mountain-trained mustangs, to whom a broken stone staircase 
would be as safe as a macadamized road. 

At last comes a gentler slope, then a crystal spring, dense grove 
and grassy plat, and we are down into the valley. Gladly we take 
the stage, and are whirled along in the gathering twilight. To our 
right. Bridal Vail Fall, shedding a brilliant sheen in the twilight; 
further up Inspiration Point, and to the left El Capitan rearing his 



154 WESTERN MILDS. 

l)are, bald licad 3,300 feet above us, beautifully, purely gray, in clear 
outline against the rosy sky. Darkness shuts out all beauty by the 
time Ave reach Hutchings' Hotel, and we gladly sink to rest, with little 
thousrht of the wonderland we are in. 

We rise to view a new creation, as it seems — a rift in the earth five 
miles long and nearly two miles wide in the center, walled in by ever- 
during granite. Here is a minor cosmos, where nature seems to have 
proceeded on a more extensive plan, as if determined to outdo all in 
the outer world of common-place. A forenoon we give to rest and 
gazing, for there is enough to be seen for that time from the porch of 
the hotel. After noon we start out northward, to the foot of Yosem- 
ite Falls, one and a half miles from us. The cliffs in front rise 
nearly 3,000 feet above us, and all along the perpendicular wall we 
see the marks of ancient glaciers and waves wearing smooth the rocky 
face; but above, where first the peaks rose from the sea of primal 
chaos, rough and frowning battlements attest the violence of the rent 
which divided this from the southern side. About half way up the 
cliff is a small offset, where grows a beautiful pine, with branch and 
foliage forming a perfect cone, seeming like the larger growth of orna- 
mental shrubbery. Yet that shrub is a monster tree 160 feet high, 
and above it the perpendicular cliff is just eleven times its height. 
Go into the forests of Ohio or Indiana and select the tallest tree, and 
remember that the upper division merely of Yosemite Fall is at least 
ten times that height! Or imagine ten Niagaras piled one above 
another. 

A thick forest of pines and firs fills the center of the valley, and 
through it we follow up the bed, now almost dry, of Yosemite Creek, 
the bowlders increasing regularly in size as we proceed, until at last 
the way is blocked by vast masses of granite, hurled, as in Titanic 
war, from the cliffs above. The immense wall gives back, leaving an 
inlet into the mountain, the sides of which, like buttresses, approach 
each other at a sharp angle, and down one side of this inlet pours tlie 
Yosemite, now shrunk to a mere rill. But in May and June the 
congealed floods, on lieights 5,000 feet above, are loosed and fill the 
high flume with a raging torrent. Then great liquid volumes fall 
from the first height, 1,600 feet, strike and break to a thousand 
splintered streams, lacing all the second fall for 400 feet with daz- 
zling lines of foam ; then gather in another flume, take another 
plunge, and rebounding from the cliff in a million comminuted 
streams, roar into the basin below. Large logs from the mountain 
forests plunge a thousand feet without check and splinter into frag- 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORXIA. 



155 



ments, but sometimes pass entire, and with many tumblings are 
drifted far down the plain. The three divisions of the fall are, re- 
spectively, sixteen hundred, four hundred and thirty-four, and six 
hundred and thirty-three feet, making the total fall two thousand six 
hundred and sixty-seven feet. Climbing for two hours, we reach the 
highest accessible ledge, inscribe our names, and return. 

A cool evening follows, and on the porch at Hutchiugs' I rest 
and gaze and 
think. To the 
north-west is 
El Capitan, 
glorified in the 
s o f t moon- 
light; oppo- 
site Yosemite 
Fall, to the 
right, the 
Royal Arches, 
and all around 
the monster 
battlements 
with shrubby 
fringe, till we 
seem walled in 
far d o w n in 
the depths of 
earth, and in- 
voluntarily 
ask : What if ^ 
ancient order 
suddenly re- 
turn, and these 
cliffs again 
unite, as sci- 
ence tells us 

they were once united ? What ages of cosmic process were re- 
quired to bring about this wondrous combination which I can sur- 
vey in one quick glance ; what infinite forces, working silently in 
God's laboratory for inconceivable ages, produced all this scene my eye 
can sweep over in ten seconds? What ages; M'hat unending teons of 
duration — an immensity clipped out of eternity — were required to 







SENTINEL KOCK. 



156 WESTERN WILDS. 

perfect this \vork? Can the mind Nvilh utmost stretch revert to a 
])eriod when all was ethereal, gaseous; when earth was a nebulous 
mass ; when Cosmos first had being — then the time required Ibr it to 
become a molten mass ; the ages thence to solidity — the first crnst — 
the shrinking, the ridging, the upheaval ; then the earthquake wave 
which rent these cliffs asunder; then the convulsions lasting through 
millions of years, and ending in the mighty subsidence in the bottom 
of this fissure crevice! Then came the age of erosion, the glaciers 
successively WTiting their history on these rocky tablets; the ages of 
wear required to polish smooth these granite walls, and symmetrize 
the facings of the cliffs. At last came the age of disintegration, of 
mold, of soil, of growth, of animals, and last of all man — the last by 
all reasoning the shortest. 

The next day is set for the great excursion to Mirror Lake and 
Nevada and Vernal Falls; and, after a hasty breakfast, we are off 
ioT the most toilsome and yet most enjoyable day to be spent in the 
valley. Saddles are carefully set, and mules " cinched " with these 
mountain girths, eight inches wide, until it seems they can scarcely 
breathe ; for we are to have perils of water and mountain — perils by 
the way. We cross the crystal Merced, of deceitful depth — it looks 
four feet and is really ten — and lively with mountain trout, in front 
of the hotel, and take our way eastward up the valley, with the 
Royal Arches to our left. In some convulsions past, the granite has 
fallen from the north side in successive sections in such shape as to 
form the likeness of five great arches, one within the other, half a 
mile long from west to east, and rising in the center 1,500 feet. 

Standing on the northern shore of Mirror Lake, we view, reflected 
in the lake from right to left. South Dome, Old ISIan of the Mount- 
ains, Cloud's Rest, Mount Watkins, and the Watch Eye, all notable 
and noble peaks upon the south side, rising from 2,000 to 4,000 feet 
above the cliffs that bound the valley. Crossing in a skiff to the 
south side, we see, reflected from the north. Mount Washington, 
Mount Calhoun, and the far-reaching wall of the lower valley. The 
lake is a great crystal map of all the adjacent hills and cliffs, beau- 
tiful only because of beautiful surroundings, not remarkable in itself, 
but dazzling by reflection of greater glories. 

From Mirror Lake we come back on the same trail a little way, 
then straight south across the valley till we are directly under the 
southern clifl", which, instead of being perpendicular, here overhangs, 
and seems momentarily to threaten destruction ; then eastward up 
what may be called the main branch of the Merced to the head of 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 157 

the vallev. I'lie smaller branch comes in from the north-east, under 
the shadow of the North Dome and the Cap of Liberty — the last a 
wondrous cone, rising directly from the north cliif, 1,000 feet of 
beautiful yellow and smooth rock, completely inaccessible. The 
south-east branch of the Merced plunges down from its source in 




NOKTH DOME A>'D ROYAL ARCHES. 



the ice-peaks by' two magnificent cataracts, Nevada and Vernal Falls, 
and a series of beautiful rapids and cascades between them. But 
there is no reaching the foot of the lower fall on horseback ; we 
are to return by it from above, down a perilous stairway, and now 
must make a wide detour to scale the clifF, or first offset, which frowns 
2,000 feet above us. 

No possible passage is visible to our unaccustomed eyes; the side 
seems almost perpendicular, and when the guide tells us Ave are to 
"go up there," pointing with his finger at an angle of eighty to a flat 
projecting peak — seeming to our vision half way to the sky — we shake 
our heads incredulously. ''But I have piloted two thousand people 
up there," says the confident Brightman, and we are reassured and 
follow him. I dare not venture on a description ; even now I can 
shut my eyes, see it all, and shudder. 

Imagine the route in, with all its difficulties doubled, and going up 
instead of down, and some faint idea may be formed. Here, we are 
told, there has been one accident. Three Aveeks before a saddle, not 
carefully girted, slipped back, and the mule straightway went to 
''bucking;" the rider jumped off on the upper side, and the mule 
undertook to run down the mountain, but soon lost his footing and 
went rolling from rock to rock, till ricocheting one hundred feet from 



158 WESTERN WILDS. 

one offset, ho fell upon the next flat, with every bone splintered, and 
his flesh reduced to a jelly. Two hours climbing bring us to the 
level above the A'ernal, and turning a sharp rocky point, we come in 
sight of Nevada Falls, the largest and highest continuous fall. The 
approach here is easy, and we are soon at its foot. Rushing down a 
rocky flume from heights four thousand feet above and miles away ; 
the Merced comes clear as alcohol to the edge, and takes the first 
plunge, four hundred feet clear; then dashes against the rocks, re- 
bounding in comminuted foam of dazzling white; then collecting 
again to a hundred tiny streams, it is ofi^at last from the rocky face in 
filmy slanting lines of cloud and foam, transparent mists so delicately 
flowing downward that one can scarcely say they move. The silvery 
sheen, like a hanging crystal-web, is lifted by the wind, swaying now 
against the rocks, and now far out over the valley; then, in a mo- 
mentary calm, falls back to break into a thousand transparent fluted 
sections, gliding downward over the rocks in ever unfolding, ever re- 
newing liquid lawn. 

Suddenly the howitzer is fired from the INIountain House across the 
gulch. The echo breaks sharply upon us from our side, and returns 
from Cloud's Rest on the north ; then seems to die away amid peaks 
and hollows, but suddenly breaks again upon the startled ear; then 
repeats in slow declining reports from peak, cliff, and point, again to 
renew and again die away in a thousand repetitions of splintered 
sound. The eflect of these sights upon difi^erent persons is a curious 
study. The noisy are still, the garrulous silent, and even the least 
profound are awed to a solemn reverence with something akin to fear. 

After a frugal dinner at the Mountain House — every thing has to be 
carried thither on mules — we come down by the hand-rail beside 
Vernal Falls, while Brightman returns the mules by the other route 
as far as Registry Rock, the first point where we can meet him. 
Piwyack — "cataract of diamonds" — as the Indians call it, well de- 
serves the name ; though known by the whites as Vernal Falls, from 
the beautiful emerald tints it displays. It consists of one clear fall of 
three hundred and fifty feet, and is accessible at more points than any 
other fall in the valley. The water starts from the cliff" in two great 
rocky flumes, twenty feet wide, and perhaps a foot in depth ; but long 
before reaching the bottom is utterly broken into minutest fragments, 
and rolled into one great airy sheet of foam ; snow-white and dazzling, 
bordered apparently by pearl-dust, it seems a column of cloud l)reak- 
ing upon the rocks to light surf and starry crystals. As the ibam 
floats ujjward the sky clears suddenly, and the sun pours a flood of 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



159 



bright rays into the gorge ; the dropping lines of emerakl take on a 
brighter tint, and a rainbow in five concentric rings springs upon the 
sight. The wind sways back the gauzy column; the penciled rays 
lose their exact focus; the rainbows break into two, four, eight, an in- 
finite division of iridic tints, and the whole presents a luminous aure- 
ole a hundred feet in diameter : another draft of air, and we have a 
dissolving view; then a lull, 
and back swings the fleecy 
foamino^ column in two bod- 
ies, and twice the number of 
circling rainbows delight 
the eye. Back comes the 
wind, and away swings the 
watery column, bringing 
again the double breaking 
lines of iridic tints ; the eye 
is relieved by new pris- 
matic combinations, and the 
overwrought senses roused 
to new delight by fresh 
showers of more brilliant 
constellations. 

The stairways about Ver- 
nal Falls are well arranged, 
and the steps hewn in the 
rock aiford many favorable 
points to view the entire 
fall. Gladly would we have 
lingered here, but the ap- 
proach of evening called us aw^ay while our en- 
joyment was still at its height. 

The hours of rest pass j)leasantly at our hotel 
on the banks of the pellucid Merced. The in- 
habitants are only second in interest to the 
valley. In 1862, Mr. J. M. Hutchings walked in, 
and pre-empted the land where his hotel now 
stands. Years ago he came in on snow-shoes to 
see if the valley was habitable in winter, and soon after moved his 
family in. From May till October all is lively in the valley, then a 
gloom, born of perfect isolation, settles upon the place; and the few 
who winter through are as completely cut off as one can imagine. 




NEVADA FALLS, 700 feet 

high. 



IGO 



WESTERN WILDS. 



Once a inontli or so, an Indian works his way down the south slope on 
snow shoes, hrinoinj^ in mail and taking out reports from the impris- 
oned. With three hotels, saw mill, and two ranches, some fifty per- 
sons reside in the valley. There is a saloon, billiard-hall, bathing- 
rooms, barber shop, and reading-room ; and the general arrangements 
are such that one could spend the summer there very pleasantly. 

Want of space 
forbids a fuller 
account of the 
sights upon the 
southern cliffs : of 
Pohono — " Spirit 
of the Evil 
Wind " ~ called 
by the whites 
Bridal Vail, a 
tiny stream with 
a fall of over 
nine hundred 
and forty feet ; 
of Lung-oo-too- 
koo-ya — " Long 
and Slender" — 
or the Ribbon 
Fall, amounting 
in different cas- 
cades to 3,300 
feet ; of Tis-sa- 
ack — " Goddess 
of the Valley" 
— or the South 

Dome ; or of Tu-lool-we-ack — " The Terrible " — the wild, craggy 
gorge of South Caflon. Nor is my pen equal to the task of doing 
justice to Tu-toch-ah-nu-la — "Great Chief of the Valley" — or El 
Capitan, rising at something more than a perpendicular, leaning 
over the valley, to an elevation of 3,300 feet; nor to Wah-wah- 
le-na — "The Three Graces" — whose heads shine from a height of 
3,750 feet. All that the utmost stretch of fancy can picture of the 
giant-like, the colossal and Cyclopean, is but a shadowy conception 
of this immense reality. No description has ever been written. 
None can be written on this earth. The subject is beyond the prov- 







VEKNAL FALLS. 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 16 J 

ince of mere word-painting. A man must die and learn the language 
of the angels before he can describe Yosemite. 

The return route, all the way down hill, was as rough as the going, 
but took less than half the time. We found four changes of climate. 
From the cool Sierras to the hot valley was a trial of endurance. Tak- 
ing the steamer at Stockton, we were soon down among the tules on 




MIRROR liAKE. 



the San Joaquin. At 3 P. M., the thermometer stood at 100°; at 
dusk, on the river, it was just pleasantly cool ; we woke next morning 
at the San Francisco wharf, where the cold sea-breeze made over- 
coats a necessity. The seasons are all mixed up in that city. August 
is the coldest (to one's feelings) and September the warmest month 
in the year. There is no perceptible difference between January 
and June. Ladies wear furs in July and August, then lay them off 
till November. The changes in the ocean-winds account for this 
paradox. 

A day in August is a miniature copy of the seasons, except that no 
snow falls to represent the hard winter of the East. We rise at 7 A. 
M., to a balmy early spring morning; if very hardy, even a visitor 
can go without a summer overcoat ; but, to stand around the streets. 
I find it more pleasant to wear mine. The rising sun scatters the 



1G2 WESTERN WILDS. 

light, fleecy clouds, and shines out with some fervor, and by 10 A. M., 
I take off my overcoat, for a mild summer has set in. This continues 
Avith beautiful steadiness until 2 or 3 P. M. ; then the thermometer falls 
about five degrees very suddenly, as the afternoon fog comes rolling 
over the city. November continues from 4 till 7 P. M., at which time 
regular winter sets in. It is, in reality, only eight or ten degrees 
colder than at noon, but the change makes it seem to me like Decem- 
ber. I button tight my overcoat, slap my fingers vigorously, and ex- 
ercise till I get acclimated; then take a hearty dinner, and two cups 
of hot coffee, put on my muffler, and go out for an evening view of 
this most cosmopolitan of cities : first to the Chinese Theater, and then 
in turn to all the local oddities. 

The beauty of Sunday afternoon tempted us to accept the local cus- 
tom and use that day for an excursion to the Cliff House. It stands 
on the opposite, that is, the Avestern side, of the peninsula, about 
four miles from the main part of the city. Whirling along through 
the sand-hills, on which I noted a plentiful supply of two old Utah 
acquaintances — sagebrush and greasewood — a sudden turn to the left 
gave a free outlook towards the West ; there I took my first view of 
the Pacific, and in a few minutes was upon the seaward porch of the 
Cliff House. 

The day was calm and almost cloudless; the sight westward free 
even to the meeting of sea and sky ; the blue vault, and the soft air 
of the Pacific, were over and around us; to the right the Golden Gate 
opened into the bay; while below us, and far down the coast, the Avhite 
surf was breaking upon the shore, with that sublime music which has 
been the delight and the despair of poets since the poluphloinhoio of 
Homer. The house stands upon a projecting rock, some forty feet 
above the waves, which beat incessantly upon the jagged points below, 
and at times even dash their light spray into the faces of those upon 
the seaward porch. Apparently a hundred yards out — really three 
times as far — stands the cluster of rocks Avhich are the resort of the 
sea-lions. They were there in numbers, not playing in the waves as 
sometimes, but lying in groups upon the top of the rocks, their deep, 
hollow bark mingling with the roar of the surf. A lone rock, a little 
further out, is covered in the same Avay with gulls, visitors not being 
allowed to fire at either. 

Below the Cliff House a road, cut into the rock and walK'A ov. 
the side next the ocean, leads down to a sandy beach below, Avhere 
the hills recede from the shore. A long salt marsh, easily forded, 
is shut off from the ocean by a sand "spit," on which is a firm and 



THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. 163 

excellent drive, even to the edge of the surf. Taken altogether, 
this may be called the Long Branch of the West. 

As the afternoon drew on, while we were watching the gambols 
of the sea-lions, which had aroused, to unusual activity, the air sud- 
denly grew dim, the rocks appeared to recede, the view of the ocean 
was shut off, and a dense bank of fog came rolling inland, while 
long lines of mist spread over the hills and went creeping through 
the hollows towards the city. By 4 P. M., the breeze was coming 
in strong from the ocean ; the air, which three hours before was 
quite warm, grew uncomfortably chilly, and the crowd turned to- 
wards towm. Reaching Montgomery Street, we found it dark with 
fog and mist, and a damp cold night set in where the morning had 
been so bright and warm. 

A week was scant time to see and enjoy San Francisco, but the 
mines of Utah were fast rising into importance, and demanded a 
historian ; my old friends called for me, and I regretfully left the 
Pacific coast for the very unpacific Territory. 



CHAPTER XI. 

UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 

The Gentiles were all talking of silver mines; the Mormons of 
"persecution of the Saints" and "God's wrath at the wicked Gentile 
government." Chief-Justice McKean had ruled all the Mormon offi- 
cials out of the District Court, and made the United States Marshal 
the ministerial officer ; the latter had selected non-Mormon grand 
juries who were ferreting out all the crimes committed by the Saints 
in the old " blood-atonement era." Lawsuits as to raining titles 
doubled and redoubled. The District Court at Salt Lake City, which 
formerly finished the term in two weeks, now sat ten months in the 
year; one-half its time settling titles to mines, the other half trying 
Mormon criminals. Five indictments were pending against Brigham 
Young; a hundred Latter-day Saints were under arrest, or hiding in 
the mountains. Money by tens of thousands was pouring in to pur- 
chase silver lodes ; every body swore by the Emma Mine which had 
given the Territory such a reputation. Every miner expected a for- 
tune; many Gentiles looked forward to the early overthrow of Brig- 
ham. There was no little bird to whisper " Schenck — Stewart — 
Trainor Park — Baron Grant," or hint that before twelve months the 
Supreme Court would upset the Utah Judiciary. There were visions 
of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, of monstrous lodes of silver 
ore, of a Territory redeemed ; the Gentile speculator rode on the crest 
of a swelling wave, and smiling hope beckoned him on to greater 
ventures. 

Though Judge McKean was then the central figure, the other Fed- 
eral officials came in for an equal share of Mormon abuse. No matter 
what they had done or left undone, they were guilty on the main 
point: they recognized no sovereignty in Brigham Young; they loved 
republicanism and hated theocracy. Governor Geo. L. Woods es- 
pecially came in for unstinted abuse. His conduct in suppressing the 
Mormon militia was painted in frightful colors. History and Script- 
ure were ransacked for precedents. The fruitful annals of Israel 
furnished the Mormon preachers with abundant similes: He \vas a 
Roman governor, oppressing the Holy Land; an Amalekite, hindering 

C164) 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 



165 




THE MORMON MILITIA. 



the march of Israel; he was Pharaoh, enslaving God's chosen; he was 
Herod, thirsting for innocent blood; he Mas Pilate, crucifying the 
Lord afresh. Daniel and Revelations were reopened : the Govern- 
ment was like haughty Babylon rushing on to destruction ; war was 
soon to scourge America ; all our cities were to l)e desolated, and 
AVashington in particular was to be sown with salt and rooted up by 
swine ! The Gentiles were equally 
fierce in their zeal to prove Utah's 
mineral wealth ; religious fanaticism 
and the love of gain were playing a 
t^trange drama in the shadow of the 
Wasatch. 

It was the dryest and sickliest 
season I ever knew in that Terri- 
tory. The Great Salt Lake, which 
had risen year by year till it stood 
fifteen feet higher than Avhen first 
surveyed, had suddenly fidlen far below the water-marks set up by 
Captain Stansbnry in 1849. On the north and east the bordering 
marshes were dry, their basins shining with salt. The pleasant babble 
of the w^ater-secks along the city streets was not heard ; the channels 
were dry, and full of dust and refuse. What little water City Creek 
supplied was needed for irrigating the inner lots, and every-where on 
the streets the shade-trees had a strange, half-dead look, the leaves 
curled and withering. When I arrived from California, September 
1st, fifty-five persons had died in three weeks out of a population of 
fourteen thousand. Two-thirds of the people complained of the 
malaria. No such season had been known in Salt Lake since the 
notable " famine year." So I soon took stage for the hills, and for 
three months devoted most of my time to inspecting the mines. 

Sixteen miles across the valley and over the " bench," brought us 
to the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canon; while a storm swept over 
us and tipped the summits of the Wasatch with snow. In these en- 
closed basins clouds rise from the lakes and marshes and float away, 
without shedding their moisture, to the mountains; there they are 
checked and fall in rain, causing the mountain sides in places to be 
covered with timber, while the valleys are always bare. A damp, 
numbing wind swept down the canon, growing colder as we gained in 
height, till overcoats and gloves failed to secure warmth ; Avhile above 
and around us every-where the peaks glistened with snow, seeming by 
imagination to add to the cold, and by the middle of the afternoon we 



166 WESTERN WILDS. 

saw the trees on the slopes gray-white with rime, and knew that we 
had invaded the domain of winter. 

For two days the storm continued, and then the late mild autumn 
of the mountains set in. In summer and autumn the Cottonwood dis- 
trict is the most delightful of cool retreats; in winter a lofty snow- 
bank, with here and there a gray projection. In the winter sunshine 
it would, but for the occasional patches of timber, present a painfully 
dazzling expanse of white; and as it is, serious snow-blindness is not 
uncommon. When a warm south wind blows for a day or two, there 
is greater danger of snow-slides. In January, 1875, the snow fell 
there, without intermission, for eight days, filling the deepest gulches, 
into which the few stray animals plunged and floundered helplessly. 
In the circular mountain-hollows, with a good growth of timber, the 
snow drifted from ten to forty feet deep, leaving the largest trees 
looking like mere shrubs. Distant settlements were quite isolated, 
and the narrow passes thereto stopped by snow. However, in the 
best developed mines work went on under ground, all the side 
chambers and vacant places being stacked full of ore as fast as it 
was mined. In a few more days the sun came out bright and clear, 
and though the thermometer rarely rises above the freezing point 
during the first two months of the year in the higher camps, yet the 
warmth seems to have been sufficient to loosen the snow not yet 
tightly packed; and in every place where the slope was great and 
tlie timber not sufficient to bind it, avalanches of from one to a hun- 
dred acres came thundering into the canons, sweeping all before them. 
One of the largest swept off that part of Alta City, Little Cottonwood, 
lying on the slope. Six persons were killed outright, either crushed 
by the timber of their own cabins or smothered in the snow, and 
many more were buried five or six hours, until relief parties dug them 
out. One woman was found sitting upright in her cabin with a babe 
in her arms, both dead. The cabin had withstood the avalanche, but 
the snow poured in at the doors and windows, and they were frozen 
or smothered. Thirty-five lives were-lost in Utah that winter by 
snow-slides. Six men were buried in one gulch a thousand feet under 
packed ice and snow. Search for them was useless. But at length 
the breath of June dissolved their snowy prison, and the bodies were 
revealed, fresh and fair, as if they had just ceased to breathe. 

Alta City, the metropolis of Little Cottonwood, is at the center 
of an amphitheater, the ridges rising one or two thousand feet high 
on all sides, except the narrow opening down the canon. In this 
circuit is a mining population of twelve or fifteen hundred people. 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 167 

and most of the old and noted mines of Utah — The Emma, Flag- 
staff, Davenport, South Star, Titus, and a dozen others. The ore 
carries from $100 to $200 per ton in silver, and from thirty to sixty 
per cent, in lead. Thus the base bullion produced from this ore 
is from ninety-six to ninety-nine per cent, lead, and is shipped 
eastward for separation. The old question, " Which is the heavier, 
a pound of wool or a pound of gold?" has its correct application 
among miners ; for gold and silver are estimated by Troy weight, 
wool (and lead) by Avoirdupois. This distinction is preserved even 
when lead and silver are in the same ton of base bullion. Hence 
a pound of wool is heav'ier than a pound of gold or silver, though 
an ounce of either metal is heavier than an ounce of wool ! 

North of Little Cottonwood, and also opening westward upon 
Jordan Valley, is the canon of Big Cottonwood, with a similar class 
of mines. Far up the canon is Big Cottonwood Lake, in the center 
of a beautiful oval vale, where the Saints usually celebrate Pioneers' 
Day — the 24th of July, on which date, 1847, Brigham Young and 
party first entered the valley. From any commanding point above 
either cafion, one can look out westward over Jordan Valley, over 
the lower sections of the Oquirrh Range, over Rush Valley w^est of 
it, and on a clear day, upon the far summits of Deep Creek Range, 
glittering like silver points in the dim distance. But the grandest 
view is from the summit of Bald Peak, highest of the Wasatch 
Range, and nearly 12,000 feet above the sea. Thither I climbed to- 
wards the close of an autumn day, and overlooked one quarter of 
Utah. Eighty miles South of me Mount Nebo bounded the view, 
its lowest pass forming the '• divide" between the waters which 
flow into this basin, and those flowing out with the Sevier into the 
Great Desert. Below me lay Utah Lake and vicinity — a clear mir- 
ror bordered by gray slopes ; far down the valley, Salt Lake City 
appeared upon the plain like a green blur, dotted with white ; north- 
ward the Salt Lake rolled its white-caps, sparkling in tlie sun- 
shine, while the W^asatch Range, glistening along its pointed sum- 
mits with freshly-fallen snow, stretched away northward till it faded 
in dim perspective beyond Ogden. A hundred and fifty miles from 
North to South, and nearly the same from East to West, were in- 
cluded in one view — twenty thousand square miles of mountain, gorge, 
and valley. 

Eight days sufficed to visit most of the mines of Little Cottonwood. 
From thirty to fifty tons of ore were leaving the canon daily, and 
at least a thousand new locations had been made, every one of 



168 WESTERN WILDS. 

Avhich the confident owners expected to develop into an Emma. The 
last day the air suddenly grew hazy, and, looking northward, we 
.saw the skv of a })eculiar ash and copper color. Old miners shook 
their lieads ominously and said: ''The fire is sweeping Big Cotton- 
wood." Next morning the peaks were shrouded in smoke, and 
about 4 P. M., a great white column shot into the sky fijr thousands 
of feet, apparently just over the "divide," then, swaying back and 
forth, settled into the shape of an immense cone, and Ave knew to 
a certainty that the wind was "down the canon," and, consequently, 
the fire nearing the Big Cottonwood smelting works. It took me 
all the next day to pass the "divide," for the lowest point on the 
ridge is 2,000 feet above Central, and the descent still greater on 
the northern side. When I reached Silver Springs the fire was near- 
ing the town, and after night-fall the sight was indescribably grand. 
From the summit of Granite Mountain, dividing the heads of Big 
and Little Cottonwoods, down through the lake region and Mill 
Caiion, to the tops of Uintah Hills — for eight miles in a semicircle 
around and above us — the view was bounded by great swaying sheets 
of flame. The sky to the zenith was a bright blood-red, and down 
to the West a gleaming waxy yellow; while almost over us Honey- 
comb Peak, where the timber had burned to a coal, and which was 
divided from us by a large rocky gorge, stood out detached and glow- 
ing red like a volcano outlined against the sky. 

Morning came, and with it detachments of miners from neighbor- 
ing camps, working their way through the lower defiles, to fell tim- 
ber and " burn against the fire." The town is in a grove of quaking 
asp, and was in no great danger ; but, across Cottonwood Creek, where 
the Smelting Works stand, the growth is mountain pine, which burns 
green or dry. The whole canon was so full of smoke that the sun 
could barely be discerned, and the pyrotechnics of the night had 
given place to a death-like gloom. From the creek to the mountain 
summit south was a roaring mass of flames, when at noon the wind 
suddenly changed, and fi)r twenty-four hours blew almost a hurricane 
up the canon. The timber had been felled for two hundred yards 
around the works ; it was now set on fire, and the great business en- 
terprise of this camp was saved. After the day of wind came rain, 
then snow, and next morning the latter, four inches deep, Avas melt- 
ing slowly into black mud. 

South of the Cottonwoods, American Fork Canon opens upon the 
Utah Lake Basin; a succession of wild gorges and timbered vales 
cause it to be known as the Yosemite of Utah. A narrow-guage rail- 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 169 

road, built by Howland & Aspinwall, to transport ore, runs down 
the canon and out to the Utah Southern ; so that the traveler can 
reach the head of this canon by rail from Salt Lake City. There a 
rich gold lode has lately been discovered, and there is a prospect of 
big developments in that direction. The silver ores are mainly car- 
bonates ; transportation is vastly cheapened, and low grade ores can 
be worked profitably. 

East of American Fork, over a very rugged range of peaks, is the 
Snake Creek District. The cireek empties into tlie Provo River, and 
most of the mining has been done by the Mormon ftirmers from the 
valley below, who go up and mine only in the intervals of farm work. 
Such workmen develop a camp very slowly, and the Mormons gener- 
ally, except those from mining regions in Europe, are singularly de- 
ficient in ability for the business. The student in social science 
might find here some curious matter for reflection, in the way the two 
classes are located in Utah. The Gentiles are on the liills, the Saints 
in the valleys ; and along a single street in the old Mormon towns 
the ore wagons pass to and fro, and the tide of Gentile travel ebbs 
and flows, making scarcely any impression upon the slow and sleepy 
Europeans. Occasionally you will see a Gentile located in one of 
these places ; but he is always keeping a way-side liotel or restau- 
rant, and looks singularly out of place. Without church, school, or 
society, his sole interest centers in the Gentile travelers. If able, 
financially, he sends his children to boarding-school in the city ; if 
not, they get an education as they can catch it. His neighbors charge 
him about a third more for produce than they do each other, and 
never patronize him in return. The rules of the " Order of Enoch " 
are that a Saint can sell to a Gentile, but must not buy of him. The 
city council — for every village is incorporated in Utah — always 
charges him the largest license they think he will endure, always 
raising it if the trade increases ; and thus some of these little gov- 
ernments are almost supported by the Gentile travelers. Eastern 
orators and editors frequently ask why we don't feel more kindly 
towards the Latter-day Saints. It is singular, isn't it ? 

I went next to the Western Districts. Passing the southern point 
of the lake, where the Oquirrh leaves barely room for a broad wagon- 
road, we enter upon Tooele Valley, eastern section of Tooele County. 
This county contains 7,000 square miles, and not more than a hundred 
sections of cultivable land ! Of the rest, one-third or more consists of 
mountains, rugged and barren, or scantily clothed with timber and 
grass; and 4000 square miles of the worst desert in the world. But it 



170 WESTERN WILDS. 

contains three of the richest mining districts in the West, and a dozen 
more which })roinise e({ual richness when dcvch)ped. Hence the agri- 
cultural (Mormon) population is small, while the Gentile miners have 
increased rapidly; hence, too, this is the first, and as yet the only, 
county in the Territory to pass under Gentile control, and is known in 
our political literature as the " Republic of Tooele." Tooele City, the 
county seat, and only considerable town, was long inhabited by the 
most fanatical Mormons in Utah ; and w-hen, in 1870, the opening of 
mines first set the tide of Gentile travel flowing through the place, 
they resisted change with stubborn tenacity. At length Mr. E. S. 
Foote, now representative elect from the county, ventured to set up a 
Gentile hotel ; but they led him a merry dance for a year or two. The 
city council raised his license every quarter, until it took one-fifth or 
more of his receipts to pay it; and every Gentile who smoked a cigar, 
ate a dinner, or stayed over night at Footers, was putting from ten cents 
to a dollar in the city treasury. Still he pulled through ; one after 
another came, and now the flourishing Gentile colony in Tooele have 
church, school, and social hall of their own, and the young Mormons 
welcome the change. When the county offices passed into Gentile 
hands late in 1874, the old Mormons seemed to expect nothing less 
than ruin and confiscation, and are yet scarcely recovered from their 
amazement. 

Eight miles beyond Tooele is Stockton, the " lead camp of Utah." 
Most of its mines yield from $20 to $40 in silver, and from a thousand 
to fourteen hundred pounds of lead per ton. Hence the ore works 
almost as easily as metallic lead melts ; and though long considered the 
slowest, as it was the oldest, mining town in Utah, with more capital 
and cheaper transportation, Stockton is steadily growing in importance. 
Here we enter Rush Valley, an oval some fifteen by thirty miles in 
extent, with a water-system of its own, and cut off from the Great Salt 
Lake by a causeway some 800 feet high. Twenty years ago the center 
and lowest point of this valley was a rich meadow, and included in a 
government reservation six miles square ; now the center of that 
meadow is twenty feet under water, and a crystal lake eight by four 
miles in extent covers most of what loas the reservation. Such is the 
change consequent on the aqueous increase of late years in this strange 
country. Three deep canons break out westwardly from the Oquirrh. 
In the southern one, known as East Cailon, " horn-silver," or chloride, 
was discovered in August, 1870. In three months a thousand men were 
at work in that district. Bowlders were often found lined wdth chlo- 
ride of silver, which yielded from $5,000 to $20,000 per ton. Ophir 



UTAH ARGENTIFEBA. 



171 



City, the metropolis, stands in the bottom of a canon 2,000 feet deep, 
which makes a very singular division of the district. On the south side 
are bonanzas of very rich ore, mostly chloride in a limestone matrix, with 
little or no admixtures of base metal ; on the north side are larger 
bodies of lower-grade ore — a combination of sulphide^ of iion, lead, 
arsenic, anti- 
mony, and zinc, 
carrying in sil- 
ver from |30 
to |80 per ton, 
and from twen- 
ty to fifty per 
cent, of lead . 
From the series 
of mine s on 
Lion Hill, 
south side, 
known as the 
Zella, Rock- 
well, etc., have 
been taken at 
least ^800,000 
in silver, leav- 
ing an immense 
a m o u n t in 

Si^ht. CHLORIDE CAVE, LION HILL. 

Over the sharp ridge which bounds East Canon on the north is Dry 
Canon, which was the leading camp of Utah in 1874. There one mine 
yielded three-quarters of a million. In this camp carbonates of lead 
and silver predominate, all the ore smelting freely. Both canons are 
included in Ophir District, which has passed through the three periods 
destined for all new mining camps. The year 1870 was the era of 
discovery and high hopes; 1871 of wilder speculation, not unmixed 
with fraud ; then came the era of reaction and long drawn-out law- 
suits, which were aggravated by the wretchedly unsettled condition of 
the Utah courts. It was the era of transition from the old Mormon 
system of juries directed by priestly "counsel," to the Gentile system. 
The Saints were determined to retain their hold on the courts, or cut 
off supplies ; the Federal District Judges were equally determined the 
courts should not run unless independently of the Mormons. Courts 
of Equity in the afternoon enjoined proceedings directed by Courts of 




172 WESTERN WILDS. 

Law in the forenoon; injunctions tied up every thing, and restraining 
orders confronted every body, and the weary way of contending claim- 
ants lay across a desert of fruitless litigation, diversified only by mount- 
ains of fee-bills, and strewn with ceiiioraris, nisi priuses, and writs of 
error. Capital fled the scene of so much contention. There were more 
lawsuits impending than the Third District Court could have settled 
in ten years. At last some of the disputes reached a conclusion in 
court, twenty times as many w^ere compromised, and in 1874 the dis- 
trict entered on the more satisfactory stage of steady work and devel- 
opment. The deepest mine is now down 1,400 feet, and the great ques- 
tion as to whether these are permanent fissure veins is being solved in 
the only way it can be — by digging. The district contains some 1,200 
working miners, and about half as many women and children. 

Language fails me to portray the hardy enterprise, nerve, and perse- 
verance of the miners who are opening the silver lodes of Western 
Utah. Roads are being laid out across every desert, trails over every 
range ; and on every mountain that lines this Territory and Nevada, 
hardy prospectors are hunting for "indications" and opening now sil- 
ver districts. The latest enterprise of note is in Dug- Way District, 
lying some ninety miles west of Ophir City, across one of the worst 
deserts in this desert region. Though this chapter begins M-ith the 
autumn of 1871, I have condensed in it my later observations on Utah 
mines, and may as well insert here a more complete description of the 
Western District. 

All the interior of the Great Basin, between the Mormon settle- 
ment which line the foot of the Wasatch, and the corresponding val- 
leys which open eastward from the Sierras, has one uniform character 
of ruerjred grandeur and barrenness. It is divided into manv inferior 
basins by a number of short and abrupt mountain ranges, running 
north and south, and furnishing scant supplies of water, with here and 
there a stream large enough to irrigate a few acres. Between these 
ranges lie almost level deserts — plains where the soil is a compound 
of sand, salt, alkali, flint rock, and an incoherent red earth, destitute 
of all vegetatiQu, save rare patches of stunted white sage-brush, re- 
sembling pennyroyal more than any plant to be seen in Ohio. At 
times, however, the entire soil is of an ashy white earth, half of it 
probably alkali, solid only in winter and wet weather, but in the dry sea- 
son easily stirred up in blinding white clouds. An area of some 60,000 
square miles does not contain a hundred sections of cultivable land; 
but at the mountain bases are found considerable tracts of the yellow 
bunch-grass. In the old freighting days, the custom of teamsters was 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 



1 T'^ 
1 i o 



to skirt along these ranges to the narrowest part of the desert, recruit 
their stock at the last grass and water on this side, then drive night 
and day nntil they reached the first grass and water on the other side. 
Take it for all in all it is about as worthless a region as ever lay out 
doors; and, on the Hoosier's "Coon-dog principle," ought to be rich 
in mines, for it is of no account for any thing else. 

The only game in most of that region is jack-rabbits and sage-hens; 
other animals 
are the sandy 
or horned- 
toad, rattle- 
snake and 
ground-mi ce. 
On many of 
the hills grows 
the pinion 
pine, on the 
nuts of which, 
with grass 
seeds, and 
roots, and a 
chance capt- 
ure of game, the Goshoots (Gosha-Utes) eke out a miserable exist- 
ence. The sand-flies live on the greasewood ; the horned toad lives 
on the flies ; the snakes live on the toads, and the Goshoots eat all 
three. From September to December, the Indians fatten up consider- 
ably; the rest of the winter they pass in a half comatose state, crouch- 
ing over a little fire in brush " wickiups," or lying on the sunny side 
of a rock, sleeping as much as possible, with a meal or two per week 
of ground-mice or frozen snake, coming out in the spring as lean and 
lank as fence-rails. There are no deformed or idiotic among them ; 
the winter kills all the old or weakly ones; only the hardy can breed, 
and the struggle for existence secures the survival of the fittest. 

Across that region I went in May, 1875, to visit the new mines in 
Dugway Range. From Ophir City, forty miles westward through the 
passes of the Onannoquah Range, brought me to the ranche of " Peg- 
leg " Davis, the last house this side of the Great Desert. All the 
miners who had visited Dugway told me to take careful directions 
from Davis, for that a new trail had been located straight from his 
ranche to the camp, and only thirty-five miles long — a little slough of 
water about the middle of the route. But Mr. Davis informed me 




GOSHOOT LOVE-FEAST. 



174 WESTERN WILDS. 

that every stranger who took that route got lost, as it led among 
some sand-hills, where the trail would not hold, and only direction 
could guide one; but the sand-hills shut off the view and left one with- 
out direction. My best plan, he thought, was to follow down the old 
Overland, guided by the telegraph polos where the sand had obliter- 
ated the track, nine miles to Simpson Springs, where I would find the 
last water, thence nine miles to River Bed, and just beyond that a 
trail led straight across, and only twelve miles long to the foot of 
Dugway Mountains, and into a rich, green canon, where I would find 
water. Thence it was only twelve miles around the foot of the mount- 
ains to the mines. But, he added, " if you get lost or do n't find the 
water, start back immediately, for if your horse goes more than a day 
without water, you're a goner." 

I set out gayly on a cool May morning, and took in liquid supplies 
(a canteen-full) at Simpson Springs. Thence it is fifty-five miles on 
the stage road to the next water, at Deep Creek, where is an oasis 
large enough to support twenty Mormon families. Until 1874, they 
were as completely isolated as if on an island in mid-ocean ; but now 
a new mining district is opened near them. Deep Creek Range is so 
high that its summits, capped with snow throughout the year, can be 
seeu a hundred miles away. Dugway Range is over thirty miles in 
length, north and south. At the north end five or ten miles of desert 
intervene between it and Granite Range, which trends north-west, and 
is so full of heavy galena mines that they are literally of no account. 
That is, no locator can sell one of them, for any man who can handle 
a pick can go there, and find a mine for himself in a Aveek. The 
mountain is literally full of lead; but it is a new district, and a hun- 
dred miles from the railroad, and time and capital are required for 
development. 

Nine miles from Simpson Springs I descended into River Bed, the 
strangest phenomenon of this strange country. For nearly three hun- 
dred miles — all the way from Sevier Lake to the western shore of 
Great Salt Lake — runs an immense dry river-bed. Once the channel 
of a stream as large, apparently, as the Oiiio, it is now a channel of 
the purest white sand. It is scarcely possible for the stranger nearing 
it to resist the illusion that he is approaching an immense stream. 
There are the bold bluffs, the gentle slope, which looks as though it 
ought to be clothed with blue-grass, and is scantily clad with cactus 
and greasewood ; the broken bank and the sandy bed from half to 
three-quarters of a mile wide. If the Ohio ten miles below Cincinnati 
should suddenly dry up, and every green thing on its banks perish, it 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 175 

would present an exact picture of this channel. Piles of minute shells, 
long winrows of wash-gravel, and plats of white sand, all indicate that 
the current was to the northward, and swift and strong. Having 
crossed it to near the western bank, a smaller channel with minor in- 
dications presents itself, all going to show that after a stream the 
size of the Ohio had flowed on for uncounted thousands of years, there 
was a shrinkage in volume, after which a stream more like the Little 
Miami continued for thousands of years more. Here and there along 
the three hundred miles of this extinct river, sharp mountain spurs 
put out from main ranges and cut it off, and more frequently there are 
up-heavals ; but the stream impartially continues on its course, up hill 
and down, and over them all. Our local scientists say that wet and 
dry cycles follow each other around the world; that Utah once had the 
rainiest climate on earth, followed by a dry cycle ; that the latter has 
slowly run its course, and that we are once more entering on an era of 
abundant rain. Very pleasant to hope, " But all may think which 
way their judgments lean 'em." 

Beyond River Bed I struck the trail, and twelve miles across a hard 
bed of gravel and alkali brought me to the foot of the mountains, and 
into the richest bunch-grass pastures I have seen in Utah. I entered 
the canon, hunted two hours, and found no water; then skirted along 
the foot of the mountains northward for five miles, but saw no camps 
and no sign of road or trail. Night came on suddenly, as it always 
does on these deserts, and the situation looked blue. Expecting to eat 
supper with the miners, I had taken no provision. My horse had 
plenty of grass, and I had water enough to last me thirty-six hours. 
Could we stand it thus another day? I thought we could, concluded 
to camp till daylight, and hunt again for the road to the mines. 
Tying the lariat to a sage brush, that my horse might graze its 
length, I lay down in a gully with only the saddle-blankets and my 
overcoat for a bed. In twenty minutes the sky was overcast, and in 
twenty more there came a cold, almost sleety rain, chilling me to the 
bones. No sleep for that night. I must walk to keep from freezing, 
and might as well walk toward comfort and safety. Here was a situa- 
tion ! Forty miles from the nearest food and shelter, thirty miles 
from drinking water, on the mountain side, 10 o'clock at night, and 
a storm of sleet coming on. Sadly I rigged up again and set out afoot 
on my return. At intervals the clouds broke away, and by the fitfid 
glimpses of the moon I selected a mountain peak which I had marked 
by day as due east, and made that my landmark. Hour after hour I 
toiled on across the desert, warm enough now with exercise and 



17G WESTERN WILDS. 

anxiety, and sustaining fatigue by thoughts of how much worse the 
travel would be in the daytime. Soon after midnight the storm 
ceased; and at two in the morning, I found myself on the western 
slope of River Bed, and in another hour the telegraph poles loomed 
up out of the darkness. Never would I have believed that a man 
could be so glad to sec a telegraph pole. Thence the road was plain ; 
the sky was clear, though the air was very cold, and I thought to 
sleep till daylight. But it would n't do. I could n't cuddle to sage- 
brush, and stiff with cold, I got up and toiled on. 

Looking back from the rising ground over the desert, I saw the 

most sublime scene I 
have witnessed for 
many a day. There 
^^ was not a cloud in the 
p sky, the air was" in a 
^ dead calm, and the 
^? gibbous moon was 
1 just sinking behind 
the Dugway Range. 
Bathed in its mellow 
light the white plain 
took on a glory that 
was indescribable. The mountain ranges and isolated red buttes 
glowed like silver on one side, and on the other cast great pointed 
shadows for miles upon the white surface. The snow-clad peaks 
above Deep Creek shone with a dazzling light; the blue peaks of 
Granite Mountain seemed to be painted against the clear sky, while 
on its western face the porphyry dykes gleamed like burnished 
copper. Between the mountains where the view of the plain was un- 
obstructed, it seemed to rise and fade away into the horizon. I forgot 
cold and hunger in gazing upon the sight. Soon, however, mountain, 
peak, butte, and plain, seemed to sink down into an abyss, as the 
moon disappeared; and for an hour I had only the stars to guide me. 
Then suddenly from the peak I had made my landmark, a purple 
streamer stretched away to the zenith; then another between that and 
the southern horizon ; then another and another, and soon the whole 
firmament took on a purple glow, while the rugged top of the Onan- 
noquah Range seemed clearly outlined against the eastern sky. Then 
the purple hue gave way to a pale rosy color, the rose to crimson, and 
the crimson again to yellow ; one by one the stars faded out, and I saw 
the snowy tops of Deep Creek Mountain faintly tipped with the 




LOST ON THE DESERT. 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 177 

yellow rays of the coming sun. The line of telegraph poles seemed to 
rise out of the ground far ahead; the morning note and flutter of a 
sage-hen were occasionally heard, and my horse gave a loud neigh, as 
if to attest his joy that the tiresome night was gone. 

His neigh was answered by another, and I soon came upon a camp 
of Mormons, who had, the previous day and night, made the fifty-five 
mile drive from the last spring on the other side to Simpson Spring. 
From them I got a biscuit and cup of coffee, and after watering and 
resting my horse at Simpson, made the ten miles to Davis's place by 
10 A. M. At first I thought myself in good condition, but in an 
hour or two, my anxiety being over, I felt that ninety miles walking 
and riding in twenty-seven hours, without food, had produced effects. 
How my bones ached! But nature does wonders for a man in that 
dry, bracing air, and in twenty-four hours I was myself again. 

I have said that the Salt Lake Basin is the largest and most im- 
portant of the various subdivisions of the Great Basin ; the finest view 
of it as a whole can be obtained from the deck of a steamer on the 
lake. This is now the most pleasant excursion in Utah, and our cele- 
bration of Independence Day, 1875, on the lake, will long be held in 
delightful remembrance. The steamer " General Garfield," formerly 
called the "City of Corinne," made two and three hour trips all dav; 
first to the eastern shore of Stansbury's Island, then to the western 
shore of Antelope, and again through the deep soundings between. 
Stansbury's Island lies eighteen miles from the landing, and is about 
ten miles long from north to south. AYe went on board at 10.30 A. M., 
and at fifteen minutes after twelve grazed the shore of the island, hav- 
ing a strong wind to contend with. But nobody cared to land, as the 
island is nothing but a vast red and yellow rock rising to a height of 
2,000 feet above the water. Antelope or Church Island lies some 
fifteen miles east of the former, and is sixteen miles long, nine miles 
wide in the center, and rises 3,000 feet above the lake surface, its sum- 
mit being 7,250 feet above the sea. Bemember that the water on 
which we were sailing is higher than any mountain in Virginia or 
Pennsylvania. 

From the deck of a steamer on the lake, the view eastward includes 
two hundred miles of the Wasatch Range, its summits every-where 
glistening with the remains of last winter's snow, not yet yielding to 
the July sun. "Westward the nearer Cedar Mountains obstruct the 
view, but hgre and there through the lowest gaps can be seen glisten- 
ing from afar the white summits of the Goshoot and Deep Creek 
Ranges. Between the two are Granite and Dugway Ranges, but so 
12 



178 WESTERN WILDS. 

much lower than the others that they are invisible. As the day ad- 
vances the fine haze rising from the lake blots out all the lower por- 
tions of the ranges, and the glittering summits stand outlined against 
the sky like points of burnished silver suspended in mid-air. From 
three corners of the lake great tongues of open country project back 
into the mountains, constituting the three great valleys of this basin. 
To the north-east Bear River Valley lies in the shape of a half open 
fan, the lower end twenty-five miles wide, the valley running thence 
to near the Idaho line, where it narrows to a mere caflon. South-east, 
Salt Lake Valley proper runs southward between the Wasatch and 
Oquirrh, in shape very like a horse-shoe. Early in the day we can 
see from the deck of the steamer many buildings in the city, the oval 
dome of the Tabernacle shining conspicuously; but as the haze deepens 
the "rising mirage" appears, and the whole city seems to rise slowly 
and melt away into nothingness. This haze is not visible to the eye. 
The day is apparently as clear as ever; the sky is blue, the sun 
shines with his full power, and the sharpest eye can not discern any 
mist. But distant objects fade out of sight, and fine outlines become 
blurred and indistinct. The finest time for a view is, of course, in the 
early morning. Then the mountains fifty miles away seem as dis- 
tinct as if within a mile, and all the peaks shine through the clear 
air with great beauty. 

It is often said that there is- no living thing in Great Salt Lake. 
There is a minute animalcul^e on the bottom, resembling a fine shaving 
of the skin from one's finger, more than any thing else I can compare 
it to. As it grows in size it beats in towards the land by the action 
of the waves, and finally swells up into the likeness of a worm, and 
floats upon the water. The boatmen think that the flies, which are so 
numerous around the edge of the lake, breed from this worm, and this 
idea is strengthened by the fact that the empty hulls of the worm, 
like abandoned shells of chrysalis, float on the water in large sections 
extending in long dark lines for hundreds of feet. At first I supposed 
these collections were merely the bodies of drowned flies, but on ex- 
amination they proved to be the husks, so to speak, of what had been 
worms. All sorts of attempts have been made to propagate life in 
the lake, or mouths of the affluent streams, but one and all have failed. 
Oysters have been planted at the mouths of the rivers, but when the 
wind was up stream, the dense brine setting in from the lake killed 
them. Jordan was stocked with eels a few years ago, but they floated 
down into the lake and died. One was picked up long afterwards on 
the eastern shore, completely pickled. The finder cooked and ate it, 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 179 

and found it very palatable. Gulls and pelicans abound in places 
around the lake, feeding on the flies and worms. Captain Stansbury 
reports finding a blind pelican which had been fed by its companions 
and kept fat. At points where grassy marshes border the lake the 
buffalo gnats are numerous and troublesome. There are indications 
that buffalo were abundant in this basin a hundred years ago. The 
Indians say the Great Spirit changed them all to crickets! The latter 
were very destructive to the first crops of the Mormons, until the 
gulls came in immense flocks and devoured them. The Mormon his- 
torian in pious gratitude says: "There were no gulls in the country 
before the Mormons came." In the slang meaning of that word, this 
is on a par for facetiousness with that statement in the Book of Mor- 
mon: ''Great darkness overspread the land: yea, darkness wherein a 
fire could not be kindled with the dryest wood." 

We next try a sail on the yacht. Several sail-boats are now run on 
the lake by various clubs ; ours only held ten persons besides the four 
sailors. A strong wind from the north-east enabled us to make eight 
miles an hour, the neat craft riding the waves like a sea-bird. But 
when we turned towards the point, and had to take the side waves, /our 
of the passengers suddenly turned pale behind the gills. By heroic 
efforts and frequent recourse to a black bottle, we kept down our 
dinners, but at the end of two hours "chopping" were glad to get on 
solid ground again. At 6 P. M. dancing began, and the latest comers 
put through the night in that amusement. Almost every public occa- 
sion in the Far West begins or ends with a dance. 

Space fails me to describe in detail the rich mineral districts of 
southern Utah. Beaver County alone has a dozen districts and 
several hundred miners. The county contains almost every mineral 
useful to man — silver, iron, copper, coal, kaolin, and fire-clay of most 
excellent quality. Withal, the climate is singularly mild and equable. 
The summers at Beaver City I found a little cooler than at Salt Lake; 
the winter much like that of middle Tennessee, only dryer. The fer- 
tile valleys there would yield provisions for 50,000 people ; and with 
the extension of the railroad to that point it will doubtless be the 
richest region of the South, the metropolis of southern Utah and 
northern Arizona. Utah now contains ninety mining districts; tlie 
mines and improvements are valued all the way from fifteen to thirty 
million dollars, and the annual yield of lead, silver, and gold has 
reached five millions. All this interest has been built up since 18G9, 
by the work of those whom the Saints stigmatize as " d — d Gentiles,'' 
and whom apologists for Brigham call "adventurers and carpet-baggers." 



180 WESTERN WILDS. 

Copper is found in vast quantities in Tintic and some other districts, 
but the reduction thereof has not made much progress. Bismuth ore 
is found in the southern counties in abundance, Gra})hite, bhick-lead, 
native sulpliur, alum, borax, carbonate of soda, and gypsum arc widely 
disseminated. Beds of the latter have been discovered that will richly 
pay for working. Salt is so plentiful as scarcely to be an article of 
commerce. Near the lake, and in many other localities, it can be had 
for shoveling into a wagon and hauling home. Fire-clay and sand- 
stone are abundant, as is building stone of every description, including 
marble and granite. Kaolin of the finest quality abounds. All the 
ochres used for polishing, pigments, and lapidary works are in inex- 
haustible supplies. The Territory will not average one acre in forty 
fit for agriculture, but nearly all the rest is valuable for some kind of 
mineral. This growing interest has created a party in favor of an- 
nexing Utah to Nevada. The new State would be about as large as 
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois combined, but it takes some- 
thing more than area to make a State. The population would be, per- 
haps, 150,000 — just about enough for one member of Congress. The 
advantages would be immense. It would bring them under the min- 
ing laws of Nevada, which are probably the best in the world ; it 
Avould give the non-Mormons a free ballot, and some chance for repre- 
sentation, and balance the crushing power of the priesthood by a large 
population of miners and Americans. Perhaps it would be well to 
annex onlv the two northern deg-rees first — containing the most mines — 
and when Nevada shall have assimulated them, add the rest. With 
some such consummation as this, I have no doubt the American pub- 
lic would be only too happy to bid farewell to Utah Territory. 

To many Americans Utah is even yet a land of mystery — the liome 
of strange rites and unhallowed religion ; but to me, in its physical 
features, it is already as the home of the soul. As more and more I 
become familiar with it, I see how little Mormonism has to do with its 
real greatness, how small a space it will occupy in its future history, 
and what countless other matters there are of wonder and interest. 
Long residence and frequent travel have made the Territory as an 
entirety far better known to me than any other part of our country. 
On the instant a mental picture, colossal in outline and interesting in 
details, rises to my vision : its snow-clad peaks glowing in the clear 
air of June, and dazzling white beneath the burning sun of August; 
its 30,000 square miles of rugged mountains, seamed from side to side 
with mineral wealth; its canons and cool retreats; its shadowed trails 
and dashing mountain streams swarming with trout. Not less roman- 



I 



UTAH ARGENTIFERA. 181 

tic, though mingling the useful and waste, and filling the tourist with 
delight, are its lake of pure brine covering 4,000 square miles, and its 
25,000 square miles of white deserts and sand plains ; its narrow, 
fertile valleys with irrigating streams and water tanks, with an orient- 
alized population, half pastoral, half agricultural, and wholly peculiar 
and heterogeneous ; its long, long wastes, crossed only by winding 
trails ; the sand storms on the deserts, and the mild air of the val- 
leys — all combining in one's imagination to invest the picture with a 
charm which has all the delight of romance, and all the permanence 
of reality. It does not seem possible that a region of such interest 
should long remain under the blighting domination of an incestuous 
priesthood. When the present depression in business is past, and the 
mining development continues, this Territory must, ere many years, 
reach an annual yield of twenty-five millions in minerals. The result 
will be wealth and cultivation, progress and a fixed Gentile population. 
Every year there are more permanent settlers, and fewer hasten away 
as soon as they have made a fortune. With its favorable climate, and 
the physical and intellectual culture to follow this season of moral 
storms; with a more homogeneous population and a republican gov- 
ernment, the result must eventually be a state of society in Utah which 
will cause Mormonism to be forgotten, or remembered only as the 
"Stone Age in Art" is remembered by archseologists. 



CHAPTER XII. 

A CHAPTER OF BETWEENS. 

It was a horrid night. I had never known the severe winter 
weather to come on so early in Utah; for "late fall and late spring" 
is the weather formula for the mountains. But now the fierce wind 
from the great desert was sweeping eastward, bringing with it inky 
snow-clouds, and sending down into the canons a fierce sleet, which 
rendered walking on the mountain trails almost impossible. From 
our cabin on the hill the saloon lights in Ophir City burned bluely, 
while every hour increased the storm that gathered strength in Rush 
Valley and drove fiercely up the canon. 

There should have been comfort in shelter and warmth ; but that 
night there was little satisfaction in Teeter's cabin, where a half dozen 
of us crouched over the fire and grumbled at our luck. We had just 
come down from a day's picking and blasting on Lion Hill. The Ida 
Elmore Lode, which one month ago we thought good for a cool mill- 
ion, was now worth about $5 in a flush market; and, as for the Ad 
Valorem — well, Teeter said the last time he saw any ore the vein was 
about the thickness of a knife-blade, and pitching into the hill nearly 
on a level, and as crooked as a worm fence. That meant "no regular 
vein — no continuation — no depth," and, consequently, no selling value. 
So, as aforesaid, we bewailed our hard luck. 

Suddenly out spoke Joe Allkire : " Behold me ; I am the Jonah." 

He was given to odd figures of speech, but this did not lessen our 
surprise ; for he was the quietest, steadiest man of the lot — just the 
partner one would have picked out for luck. But he persisted : " Why 
the very town I was born in was wiped out — nothing left of it but a 
tater patch." 

"Tell us about it," was the universal request. It was something, 
any thing to rid us of unwelcome thought. Joe slowly filled his glass, 
seeing that the quart bottle of valley-tan already looked pretty sick ; 

and 

"All were attentive to the warlike man, 
AVhen, stretching on his chair, lie thus began :" 

" Yes, I reckon I started on the worst streak o' luck in the State of 
lUinoy. I took mv first shot at daylight in the town o' Union Flats, 

(182) 



A CHAPTER OF BET WEENS. 183 

and in doin' that I made the big mistake o' my life. The town was 
settled by a lot from Botetour, Virginia — folks that said ' bin gone 
done it/ and made their women do the milking ; and then come some 
eaow-paling Yanks from C'neticutt, and Quakers from Pennsylvania, 
and natives from Indiana, and so they named it Union Flats. It's 
flat enough now, but as to the Union — you'll hear my gentle 
voice. 

" Lemme see ; there was first Whig and Democrats — just about an 
even divide, and stiffer'n a liberty pole on both sides ; but wdien it 
come to 'lectin' a constable, I reckon the fightinest man stood in with 
the boys, and as for whisky, wh-e-u-w ! It was sod-corn barefooted. 
The valley-tan these Mormons make ain't nowhere. I mind old Mike 
Gardner drunk a pint of it, and went home and stole one of his own 
plows and hid it in the woods, and didn't know where it was wdien he 
was sober, and had to git drunk agin to find it. 

" These was only the common fellers. The good folks was awful re- 
ligious. The Old School Baptisses never w^ent nigh the Methodis' 
meetin' house, and tothers w'as jist as stiff on thar side; but there was 
a sprinkle o' Quakers to soften things, and a little blue spot o' Presby- 
tarans, but not enough for a meetin' house, bein' there was no 
more'n six or seven hundred people in the whole place. So they 
Mas only two meetin' houses, and three or four groceries for whisky and 
such, besides ChcAv's store, which was the only place that sold bour- 
bon — tothers only ' sod-corn.' Then they was Masons and a lot of 
Batavy New Yorkers that was agin the Masons, and some agin all se- 
cret societies; and along in 1843 come some Millerites, crazier'n loons 
about the eend of all things on the 11th o' August, 
and pretty soon after come some Washingtonians and 
dug in agin Chew and the others that sold whisky, so 
if a feller wasn't tuck on one side he was on tother. 
But the boys soon busted them up, and, no matter what 
the prophecies said, the eend didn't come on the 11th, 
and things Avas sort o' dull till these new-fangled no- 
tions come in and the Methodis's they set up a choir. 
But they was nigh half agin it, and that set up another 
meetin' at tother eend o' town, and split folks all up agin, d'^-^*^"^ '^"'•-^^ • 
Then come this nigger business, for it was only forty miles to the Ohio, 
and the new" meetin' folks got a real cranky little chap from some'eres 
East for preacher, and took the abolition shoot, and so all the others 
preached on Onesimus, and Hagur, and ' Cussed be Canaan,' and things 
got real lively agin. 




184 



WESTERN WILDS. 



"Next thing Misses Chew she split the choir about leadin' in the 
singin'; and when a fuss gits among a lot o' singin' folks, you jest bet 
it spreads. She was dognation purty, and slung more style than a 
speekled show-horse, and I mind more'n one young fellar that felt like 
he'd like to put a spider in old Chew's biscuit. He was purty well 
off, and jist doted on her, and brought her shawls and all sorts o' 
things from New York ; but his face was sort o' weazened up, and the 
top of his head gittin' aboye the timber line, and not so young and 
gay as his woman might have wanted him, and that give the other 
women in the choir a hold. But I sha'ti't dwell ; you know what they 
said. Then the young fellers that was invited to the Chewses got out 
with them that wasn't, and all tlie folks took sides — and there we was 

agin. You see folks in 

E^ these little towns is ,so 

"=- neighborly. They stand 

— by their friends in a 

fuss — you hear my 

racket? 

" Well, one day Joe 
Tucker, a long, gaunt- 
lin' mud-mummy, was 
slungin' along the street 
with a long, lean yaller 
dog that allers follered 
him every-where, and 
come by where a farmer was unloadin' some wood, an' quicker'n wink 
the farmer's big bull-dog pitched into Joe's, and knocked him four 
rod, and so scared Bob Stevenses', the blacksmith's, wife, that was a 
takin' her man his dinner, that she yelled for all that was out, and 
keeled over agin the wagon, and her old sun-bonnet a floppin' off and 
her a yellin' scared the horses so they broke loose and lit out down 
the street, like the devil a beatin' tan-bark, and run agin a ladder 
where was John Baker a paintin' the up front of Abraham Miller's 
store, and knocked down the ladder, crippled poor John for life, and up- 
set the wood into Burnstein's oyster cellar, killin' one of Burnstein's 
children stone dead, and so scared Misses Burnstein that she dropped a 
pan o' hot oysters into the lap of a customer, and set him to swearin' 
and dan(;in' like all possessed. 

" Well, I reckon if there was any one thing Joe Tucker did love, it 
was that same long, lean, yaller and spotted dog ; they was more like 
twins than Christians, and folks did say they slept together in that lit- 




" THEY BROKE LOOSE AND LIT OUT DOWN THE STREET.' 



A CHAPTER OF BET WEENS. 185 

tie den back of Joe's gun-shop. So as soon as he conceited what was 
up, he gathered a dornick, and was just drawin' back to send the 
strange dog where they's no fleas, when the stranger saw him and 
went one better. He had a fist like the hand o' Providence, and when 
it landed behind Joe's ear some folks thought it was a fresh blast down 
at the quarry ; even old Chew heard it, an' folks say Joe doubled on 
himself twice as he went throuo-h Abraham Miller's bio; winder. 
Well, Miller run out and first tried to stop the dogs, when the stranger 
yells out : 

" ' Let 'em fight ! My dog can whip any dog in town, an' I can 
whip the o-wner.' 

"He'd better not a said that last, for just then Bob Stevens run up, 
rarin' mad about his wife's scar, and just in time to hear them words, 
and the next minute he let out that blacksmith's right o' his'n, 
and cut a calf s nose on that stranger's jaw. So they went at it, fist 
and skull, and in about four minutes you 
couldn't a told that stranger's face from a 
map o' this territory, it was so full of red 
buttes and black deserts. 

" ' Friend, perhaps thee is equally mis- 
taken as to thy dog,' was all that Abraham 
Miller said, for he was a real quiet man, but 
he did have some pride about his town, so ..^^^^ ^^^^ clinched." 
he went into the back-yard and onloosed a 

regular old English bull that he kept in the store nights, and it was 
just beautiful to see that dog go to the relief of Tucker's, an' between 
'em they soon put the strange dog to his trumps. As Abraham stood 
over 'em to see fair play, the Methodis' preacher come up, and sez he, 
' Fie on you, men, citizens of Union Flats, to get up a dog-fight right 
in the face of day,' and was raisin' his cane when Abraham gave him 
a gentle shove, and he yelled out that he was struck — them Boston 
chaps is so tender. 

" ' I struck thee not, friend,' said Abraham. 

" ' You did, sir.' 

" ' But thee draws wrong conclusions.' 

" ' Sir, you mistake facts.' 

"' Thee utters a mendacious assertion.' 

" ' You tell an infernal lie,' bawled the preacher, and they clinched. 
Well, of course a thin Boston bran-bread chap had no show agin one 
o' our corn-fed men, and Abraham was- about to mash him, when 
most o' the men in town bein' there by this time, the preacher's con- 




18G 



WESTERN WILDS. 




gregation turned in to help, when Abraham's clerks run in to back 
their boss", and in less tinie'n I tell it in they was six or eight on a 
side, fightin' across toward the Court-house, and leavin' a red trail as 
they went. It was jist beautiful to see 'em peel ; we don't have any 
such fun in Utah. 

'' But it happened the stranger with the wood was a Mason, and he 
had some friends down at Chew's, an' in three minutes after he got 
away from Bob he had 'em out in line, and along with 'em old Chew — 
drunk on his own whisky for a wonder — brandishin' a green ax helve, 
and swearin' by the great horn spoon of the Ancient Scottish Rites 

that he could whip any Morgan man in 
Union Flats or sixty miles round. 
He'd jest got the words outen his 
mouth when one of the Batavy New 
Yorkers sez he, ' I don't take that from 
no Morgan killer,' and fetched ole 
Chew one that drapped him. Then 
they did have it beautiful. I reckon 
they was about twenty-five Masons in 
town, and they lit on the Yorker and 

ler's store, when they forted and held their own, and they daresn't an 
anti-mason show hisself. 

"But 'twant for long. In jist no time they come up heavy, and 
with 'em the folks that was down on the Chewses, and the women 
egged on the men, and in fourteen minutes they went through the 
Chewses and their party like alkali water through a Johnny raw from 
the States. They might a got it stopped then, but old Colonel Darby 
galloped into town (his wife was one of the Virginny Mason family), 
and he yells out, 'It's all on account of the infernal abolishnists; 
they'd out to be druv outer the town,' and that gave the thing a new 
turn. The new meetin' folks joined in with their preacher, and all 
the Darbys yelled to go for the abolishnists, and the last man in town 
was in it in three minutes. Old 'Squire Hooker, the head abolition 
man, run outen his house like mad, yellin' for freedom or death, and 
it looked like half the town took a shy at him. The dornicks and. 
brick flew like distraction, and one as big as my fist went through the 
winder and into the parlor, where it hit Maria Hooker square in the 
bosom, and broke two of Bob Carter's fingers, that was payin' his at- 
tentions to her. The constable rushed in and was jammed through 
the jeweler's window, the preacher was knocked clear out o' all like- 



I 




A CHAPTER OF BETWEEXS. 187 

ness, and 'Squire Hooker ana a dozen other abolislinists shamefully 
whipped. 

" By this time the Irish at work on the grade got wind of a free 
fight, and they double-quicked into town and lit in generally, and 
Miss June Davis's man thought it was a good time to get even with 
the Wrights, and about forty fellers concluded to pay off old scores ; 
and the grand jury that was in session up stairs in the Court-house 
come runnin' down, and upset the stove, and in less'n four minutes the 
old shell was all ablaze, and the fighters set two or three more houses 
afire, and in an hour all the heart of the town was burned out, an' all 
the little men badly whipped that hadn't run away; 
for the fightin' kept up more or less for three hours, ^^^ 

and never stopped till every body was satisfied. I "" ^ 

mind well the last man out was little Si Duvall, a 
splintery feller with no legs to speak of, and every 
body said no account, and that you couldn't make any 
thing outen him, 'less it was a preacher or a school- 
teacher. But they wan't no exemptions in that war, 
and Si had to go in along with the rest. You see it 
don't take much to start a fuss when they's blood in ^"^ ^^^"^ ""^ ^^«- 
the air; and an independent people will have their little differences in 
the glorious air of the free and boundless West. An' I reckon they 
was fusses settled there that had been runnin' for twenty years — 
neighbors that had quarreled about jinin fences, and relatives that had 
lawed about settlin' estates, and men that got cheated in boss trades — 
every man got full satisfaction, and the books was squared." 

"Is that all?" I asked, seeing that he made a' long pause. 

" It's all the liquor," said Joe, gazing regretfully at the black bottle 
which had held our last supply ; " but of the history they's a few more 
pints, and at your service." 

"Well, the town was half burned up, and its character ruined, and 
all the whisky spilt, and the constable and sheriff and 'Squire Hooker 
and about fifty more, badly whipped, and the dog that started it all so 
chawed up a Chinaman couldn't 'a made him over into chow-chow^ 
and the row only stopped when a big thunder shower separated the 
forces — and then they was peace. But Misses ChcAV declared she 
wouldn't live in no such a heathen country, and they moved back 
East, and so the neighborhood lost tone ; an' the new preacher, what 
was left of him, had a call to go further north, for he 'lowed a man 
with one ear chawed off might be ornamental, but couldn't shine in a 
pulpit in Southern Illinois; and Abraham Miller was so disgusted 



188 WESTERN WILDS. 

with himself about brcakin' the rules and fightin' that he took to his 
bed, and his new store went all to shacks; an' all the abolishnists left, 
too, and the Yirginny people swore the place had no style about it 
anyhow, and they moved, and some o' the houses was hauled off into 
the country, and the rest Avas took by a big fresh, and you won't find 
any thing there now but a corn-crib or two. And all that from one 
dog-fight. 

"But so 'twas nobody from that town ever had any luck, 'cept that 
same little splintery Si Duvall. He went off to Oregon and got to be 
a lawyer, and went to the legislater, an' was in the big land commis- 
sion, and jest coined money ; but, after all, the luck o' Union Flats 
overtook him at last. He up an' married one o' them school-marms 
sent out from Boston, and when they took their tower down to Frisco, 
she got sea-sick and throwed up all her teeth, that Si thought was so 
pretty an' regular; and Si tried for a divorce, and said it was failure 
o' consideration an' fraud in the contract, an' not the goods he bar- 
gained for at all, but the judge differed with him, an' he had to sup- 
port her. So you see, boys, my luck's bound to foUer me, and until I 
leave the outfit you'll strike no horn silver on this hill." 

The whisky being exhausted, the conversation now took a more 
serious turn. There were accounts of the great "Frazer Biver Ex- 
citement," when the miners rushed off to British Columbia, and most 
of them came back minus ; of the stampede into Sun Biver Gulch ; 
of the Calaveras frauds, and the mob that hanged the perpetrators — 
for our miners were men who had tempted fortune in many fields. 
There were blood-curdling tales of Indian massacres ; sad narrations of 
toil and exposure on the cold mountain-side or the wind-swept desert; 
and depressing stories of the long, long search for gold which had 
still evaded the prospector. I was particularly struck by one ac- 
count, given by a weather-beaten mountaineer of sixty years, whose 
memory ran back to the time when trappers and hunters constituted 
the sole white population west of the Missouri. As his style was 
obscure, I venture to give the story in my own language : 

It was the good old time — the grand, good old time — when buffalo by 
thousands came within two days' ride of the Missouri ; when beaver 
dams adorned every stream in the mountains; when the wild horse 
ranged from Laramie Plains to the Bio Grande; when the Indians 
welcomed the trapper and trader, though they still fought the soldier 
and emigrant ; and the nomadic plainsman could ride two thousand 
miles in a right line without sight of a human habitation. Then 
Clear Creek, Colorado, was lively with beaver; then the mountain 



A CHAPTER OF BET WEENS. 



189 



sheep threaded a hundred trails on the eastern slope ; the migration 
of the buffalo was as regular and certain as the return of the May 
sunshine, and every wooded canon invited the hunter to rest and a 
gamy feast. The trapper looked upon two parts of the earth as ter- 
restrial paradises: in the Mexican settlements of California, or the 
towns on the Rio Grande. When rare good fortune carried him that 





" WUEKE WABKING TKIBJES MET IN PEACE." 



"^^'/^g^^^'t'^-^ 



way, he could dance, and drink, and make love with the bright-eyed 
senorifas; then, when pleasure palled, be off again for the life-giving 
air of the mountain, the canon and the desert. 

These towns Avere neutral ground, where warring tribes met in 
peace, and white and Mexican danced and drank, and danced the jolly 



190' WESTERN WILDS. 

hours away. The white cross of the chapel, without which no Mexi- 
can town can be called a pueblo, spoke peace to all ; the priest joined 
heartily in all the sports, and stood ready to grant extreme unction if 
aguardumte and gambling resulted in fatal " accidents." On the 
plaza, cverv die de fiesta, was gathered a motly crowd : the plains 
Indian exhibited his wild horsemanship; the senorUa coquettishly 
flaunted her rebosa before the admiring hunter; the Mexican lost his 
all or won a little fortune at monte, and even the boys took their first 
lesson by pitching for quarfillas. 

St. Louis the trapper must sometimes visit, to sell the proceeds 
of his hunting and lay in supplies ; but it was not his choice to 
linger there long. How could he contentedly tread the pavements 
who had trod the green turf of the prairie ? how could he rejoice in 
city air, having breathed the sweet air of the mountains? His gains 
M'ere often great. 'More than one trapper has realized two thousand 
dollars from the proceeds of a single season. These were spent with 
reckless generosity, and then he was off again to range from Huerfano 
to the Yellowstone, and from the Black Hills to the Salt Lake. Such 
a time it was, when Will and Bob McAfee set out from San Luis Park 
to make a hurried trip to St. Louis. 

It was their year of good fortune, and they hurried down the Ar- 
kansas to cash their wealth of furs and return before the late mild 
autumn should give place to the biting winter of the plains. With 
what joy the returning plainsman hails the 'first sight of heavy timber! 
AVill and Bob had got far enough down the river to find dense groves, 
and in one of these, late in October, they prepared to camp for the 
night. But Will, the older and more experienced, grew strangely 
nervous at sight of the dead trees standing so thickly among the 
live ones, and called attention to the fact that the river bluffs came in 
close to the stream, and rose almost perpendicular; in fact, that this 
was a canon rather than a valley. 

" Bob, do you see these dead trunks, and the way this gorge opens 
east and west — and it's the time for storms now — d'ye remember what 
father once told us about such a place as this?" 

" Git out," said Bob, " no old stories now. Don't ketch me campin'* 
out on the perrairie to-night." 

Will yielded, but his heart was heavy with forebodings of danger; 
their evening was dull, despite the jocular style and sprightly sallies 
of Bob, wlio recounted the pleasures of a brief stay in St. I^ouis. The 
animals were picketed, and the trappers lay down trapped in their 
blankets, each upon a pile of dry bark, which served them here in- 



A CHAPTER OF BET WEENS. 191 

stead of their moiintaiu bed of pine boughs. They slept the sound, 
sweet sleep of tired men v/hoee only nurse was nature; pure air and 
water their stimulants. Suddenly, said Bob, in the only account he 
ever gave of it, " We were raised by a roar as if heaven and earth 
were coming together." He sprang up bewildered. The heavens 
were lit by the glare of lightning; the next instant inky blackness 
succeeded, and then thunder, which shook the foundation of the neigh- 
boring hills. The autumn storm had come with unusual suddenness 
and force, and they were in the mouth of a natural tunnel. 

For a few minutes the air was comparatively calm, while the electric 
glare illumined the grove, and thunder rendered conversation impossi- 
ble. For an instant there was silence, and after it a great moving 
mountain of air swept down the gorge, and then the wind and rain- 
storm was upon them in all its fury. Bob felt himself hurled back- 
ward, but with the instinct of self-preservation sprang behind an 
immense green tree, whose spreading roots seemed to bid defiance to 
the blast. He screamed with all the force of his lungs to Bill, but 
there was no response. The dead trees snapped like pipe-stems; the 
rain and wind drowned his loudest cries. He saw that two dead 
trunks had fallen on either side of the tree that sheltered him; but 
only noted that this added to his safety, and redoubled his cries for 
his brother. But no answer. 

In two hours the storm ceased almost as suddenly as it had risen, 
and daylight showed the fearful ruin it had wrought. The forest of 
yesterday was a tangled, almost impassable jungle. Only a few of the 
largest trees still stood. Bob gazed around him, marveling at his 
safety, then shouted with all his strength for Will. There was a 
faint, mournful response from somewhere near; it seemed almost under 
his feet. He climbed hurriedly over the logs about him, and shouted 
again. Again came that feeble response. His heart gave a great 
bound, and then stood still. That was not the voice of the deep- 
chested and lusty mountaineer of yesterday ; it was rather the moan of 
a sick woman or fretful child. Again came the faint call, this time in 
words. 

" Bob, for God's sake, come." 

In a shallow ravine before him was his brother. But what a sight ! 
Will lay upon his back, alive and conscious; but his legs were crushed 
beneath an enormous trunk, which pinned him to the earth. 

Bob sprang forward and madly tugged at the weight, which would 
have resisted the united strength of hundreds. The imprisoned hunter 
smiled, then groaned with a sudden spasm of pain. 



192 WESTERN WILDS. 

" Bring mc some water, Bob, and listen to the few words 1 can 
speak." 

Refreshed by the draught, ho went on : 

"Do you love me, Bob?" 

The stalwart, un wounded man sobbed like a child, 

"Would you do me the greatest favor man can do another? AVould 
you hurt your own heart for me"; Would you save me days and 
nights of misery? 'Cause, if you would, Bob, there's jist one thing 
for you to do." And he laid his hand upon the pistol in Bob's belt. 

"Oh, don't say that, Bill. For the Lord's own sweet sake, don't 
say that. Any thing else. I'll start now and bring help." 

" Help! " said Will, with the faintest touch of sarcasm in his falter- 
ing tones; "help; the nearest white man's three hundred miles away, 
and where ' d I be by the time ye got back ? Don't ye see I can't 
live?" 

"But I will get the ax and chop the log off ye ; I'll get ye out." 

"No use. Bob, no use. It's only a matter of how and when I'll go 
under. Can't you see I'm rubbed out? I've pinked my last buff'ler 
— I've set the last trap in this world. Would you let me lay here 
days and days and suffer ten thousand deaths ? No, Bob, do as I bid 
ye. Don't be chicken-hearted. Jest one ball from that pistol — and 
right in the head. Bob, right in the head. Oh, dear boy, why won't 
you help me?" 

The uninjured brother sank trembling on the ground; clasped Will 
around the neck, and with strong, crying tears begged the sufferer to 
spare him this. 

"Brother," said the wounded man, a strange, tremulous sweetness 
in his voice, "do you mind the days when we played among the lime- 
stone hills in old Kaintuck — and what our grandfather McAfee told 
us about the Injun troubles when he was young — an' the kind o' blood 
there was in our family ? Do ye mind it, Bob ? Ain't the blood there 
yit ? I ain't afeared to die, but think o' layin' here, or anywhere else, 
an' dyin' by inches! I'lU right in the head now — soon I'll be in a 
fever, an' then — but you'll help me out, Bob, won't you? No one 
will ever blame ye. I ask it ; I, your brother, beg it of ye — the last 
favor ye can do me." And he struggled to raise the pistol Avith his 
own hands, then sank back exhausted, his gaze turned imploringly to 
his brother. 

JjC 5jC $|C SjC «j* ?p *f» ^^ ^ 

The awful conference was over, and the deed was done. Will 
McAfee lay dead with a ball in his brain, sent there by his brotii- 



A CHAPTER OF BET WEENS. 193 

er's hand, and Bob fled from the spot, unable to look upon his work. 
But it was not an act, however justified by mountain ethics, which the 
doer could blot from his memory. The light-hearted mountaineer 
returned to his former haunts a morose and gloomy man. His asso- 
ciates, one and all, excused the deed ; it was what they would have 
done in like circumstances. " But woe, woe, unutterable woe, to those 
who spill life's sacred stream." That instinct is too deeply implanted 
in the human breast. 

Bob grew solitary in his habits, and finally disappeared. Ten years 
afterwards a party of hunters penetrated one of the many obscure and 
difficult canons that open westward from the Saguache Range, and to 
their astonishment came upon the rude cabin of a hermit. Within 
they found an occupant who neither moved nor spoke at their ap- 
proach. Long, snow-white hair and beard nearly concealed an aged 
face, on which the rugged lines and leathery skin seemed the marks of 
a century of suffering. His sunken, unwinking eyes gazed into va- 
cancy, his form so still that the astonished hunters could not be certain 
that he lived till one laid hand upon his arm. Then starting sud- 
denly from his seat, the hermit cried : 

" He is dead, he is dead, and I soon shall follow him ! " and with 
all the strength of his rheumatic limbs the unhappy parricide sought 
to push them from the living tomb. 

But contact with men brought health to his mind, and the only 
remaining week of his life was one of peace and resignation. Cheered 
by the kind ministrations of the hunters, Bob McAfee sank to rest, 
and the unfortunate brothers were reunited, let us hope, in a land 
where motives are judged as well as conduct. 

13 



CHAPTEli XIII. 

OKLAHOMA. 

The year 1872 opened with a revival of interest in the Atlantic 
and Pacific Railroad, otherwise known as the Thirty-fifth Parallel 
Route. This road was already completed from St. Louis to Vinita, in 
the Indian Territory, and was to run thence westward to the Rio 
Grande, and through a succession of valleys and passes, nearly on the 
line of the thirty-fifth parallel, to California, terminating at San Fran- 
cisco. That city and St. Louis had struck hands on the project; 
thirty-five million dollars had been pledged ; it was the era of specu- 
lative railroad construction, and we were promised an early completion 
of the line. I determined to traverse the proposed route — or as much 
of it as possible — on horseback, and give the w^orld an impartial re- 
port. 

Bonneville, the early explorer, immortalized by the genius of Irving, 
had confidently named this as the best route; Kit Carson had been 
earnest in its favor, and Government early had it surveyed. But 
Fremont's work made the nation more familiar with the northern 
route ; the w^ar came, and the South lost her chance. "With the return 
of peace both southern lines were aided by grants of land; but Tom 
Scott's Texas Pacific has again got the start. 

Spring w^as just tinging the prairies w ith a pale green when I en- 
tered the country of the Cherokees, and soon after crossing Grand 
River passed a heavy wooded strip, and in the next prairie found the 
terminus town of Vinita. Here the Missouri, Kansas & Texas Rail- 
road crosses the A. & P., and here we should naturally expect to see a 
place. In Kansas or Nebraska we should see a city with lots selling 
at from one hundred to two thousand dollars, dwellings and stores 
going up on every hand, one or two live journals blowing the place as 
the " future metropolis of the boundless West, the last great chance for 
profitable investment," etc., and a dozen streets lively with the rattle 
of commerce. Here, we see nothing. We feel the dead calm of stag- 
nation ; we breathe the atmosphere of laziness. There is one tolerable 
hotel, one stone store, and two frame ones, kept respectively by a 
Cherokee and a Delaware; and, besides the railroad employes, there 

(194) 



OKLAHOMA. 



195 




'FINE FIELD FOR THE ETHNOLOGIST." 



is a population of perhaps a hundred — a few good men, more shiftless 
whites, average Indians, and suspicious-looking half-breeds. 

For five weeks I wandered about the Indian Territory, a pleasant 
sort of half wilderness for a Bohemian to recreate in. Here are pure- 
blooded Aborigines who are something more than hunters and root-dig- 
gers ; here are republican governments run on aboriginal principles, with 
aboriginal official titles, and such a 
mixture of races as affords a fine 
field for the ethnologist. * One 
meets with some awkward surprises, 
Avith facts that unsettle a great deal 
we had considered settled. A re- 
gion half as large as Ohio (exclud- 
ing the sand-hills and deserts) has 
some 60,000 inhabitants : a people 
rich in flocks and herds, enjoying 
themselves in a simple, pastoral 
way, content with their mode of life, and indifferent to the rush and 
struggle of more artificial societies. One may travel for hundreds of 
miles on the public I'oads and never see a full-blooded Indian; yet 
such are in the majority, as shown by the census. They usually live 
off" the roads and in the timber along the streams. 

The mild warmth of a March Sabbath in that latitude led me to 
make an excursion down Cabin Creek to a log church and school- 
house, where I found a congregation of fifty-two persons. There 
were all shades, from African black to pure white with blue eyes and 
flaxen hair. There were families of half a dozen each, representing 
three or four types of the half-breed. One very intelligent gentle- 
man told me he had a family of nine — of just nine different shades — 
from pure white to almost pure Indian. His first wife was half 
Shawnee, from Canada, and her first husband a full-blood Cherokee, 
the three children of that union being rather dark. By this woman 
he had four children, only quarter blood, but varying greatly in com- 
plexion. After her death he married a blonde Irish woman; they 
had two children, one a clear-skinned, freckled, blue-eyed Celt, the 
other dark enough to pass for a "White Cherokee." 

" It's singular how it will come back in this country," he ex- 
plained. "I've known 'em to have regular Injun children after two 
generations of nearly white, and children of pure white people born 
here are often very dark. I know two White Cherokees, married, 
that you couldn't tell either of 'em from a regular white person, and 



196 WESTERN WILDS. 

they've a whole family of nearly half-blootls. Old Injuns say it 
comes back on 'em sometines after people have done forgot they had 
any Injun blood in 'cm." Even so Europeans resident in xisia often 
have children that look like little Asiatics. 

Our preacher was a white man, but a citizen of the Cherokee Na- 
tion ; and the society was Baptist, as are a majority of Cherokee 
Christians. The Methodists, Presbyterians, ISIoravians, and Episco- 
palians also have churches in the Territory. The Senccas alone, of 
all the located tribes, retain their aboriginal heathenism. That entire 
tribe numbered then but ninety persons, including one baby. They 
occu])y a township in the north-eastern part of the Cherokee country, 
whei'e sacrifices, incantations, and a separate priesthood arc still main- 
tained. They stroke their faces to the moon, and once a year Ijurn a 
certain number of dogs to propitiate the spirit of evil. These, wnth 
oiferings of fruits, serve them instead of incense and holy Avater. 

Traveling northward through the Cherokee country, I reached the 
Kansas line at Chetopa, and with amazing suddenness passed from a 
wilderness to a thickly settled country. From east to west, far as 
the eye can see, extends a marked line of division between State and 
''Nation:" on the south an unbroken prairie, on the north farms, 
orchards, neat dwellings, and thriving villages. If one side of Broad- 
way should utterly vanish, leaving a vacant plain, the other side re- 
maining as it is, the contrast could scarcely be greater. It is a power- 
ful argument, and one in constant use in favor of congressional action 
to open the Territory to white settlement. Thence, after a short visit, 
I took the southward train on the Missouri, Kansas tt Texas Railroad, 
having meanwhile been joined by Mr. O. G. Dc Bruler, of the Cincin- 
nati Times. The road was then completed but ninety miles into the 
Territory, and at midnight we stopped at the ncAV town of ^luscogee, 
in the Muskokee or Creek Nation. 

We opened our eyes next morning upon a long, straggling, mis- 
erable railroad town, the exact image of a Union Pacific "city," in 
the last stages of decay. Some two hundred yards from the railroad, 
a single street extended for nearly a quarter of a mile ; the buildings 
were rude shanties, frame and canvas tents, and log cabins, open to 
the wind, which blew a hurricane for the thirty-six hours we were 
there. If Mr. Lo, "the poor Indian," does in fact "see God in the 
clouds and hear Ilim in the u'incl" as the poet tells us, he has a simple 
and benign creed which gives him an audible and ever-present deity 
in this country, for the wind is constant and of a character to prevent 
forgetfulness. The weather is mild and pleasant enough, but walking 



OKLAHOMA. 197 

against the wind is very laborious, and the howling so constant as to 
make conversation difficult inside a tent. I have observed in my 
travels that windy countries are generally healthful, but a diJfferent 
report is given here. They say bilious diseases of all kinds prevail, 
and complain particularly of fever, ague, and pneumonia. 

We ate in the " Pioneer Boarding Car," and slept in another car 
attached ; five of them being placed on a side track, anchored down, 
and converted into a pretty good hotel. Here, and about the depot, 
were the citizens employed on the road. Of the town proper, a ma- 
jority of the citizens were negroes, formerly slaves to the Indians. 
Slavery here was never severe, and they are little more their own 
masters than before. They earn a precarious subsistence, the women 
by washing and the men by teaming and chopping, and were all 
sunk deep, deep in poverty and ignorance. All day the Avenches 
were strolling about in groups, bareheaded, barefooted, half naked, 
stupid-looking, ragged, and destitute. But all around them was 
nature's wealth, needing only industry to create plenty. Fertile prai- 
ries, even now rivaling Ohio meadows in May, rolled away for miles 
to the north and east ; beyond them the heavy line of timber marked 
the course of the Arkansas. 

The records of Muscogee are bloody. During the five weeks the 
terminus business and stage offices Avere there and at Gibson, sixteen 
murders were committed at these two places, and in a very short time 
five men were killed at the next terminus. One man Avas shot all to 
pieces just in front of the dining-car at Muscogee, and another had 
his throat cut at night, almost in the middle of the town. It is true, 
strangers, travelers, and outsiders are rarely if ever troubled. These 
murders are upon their own class, and new-comers Avho are Aveak 
enough to mix in, drink and gamble Avith them. But a fcAV days 
before our arrival, a Texan reached Canadian Station Avith the pro- 
ceeds of a cattle sale. He met these fellows at night, Avas seen at 10 
o'clock Avith them, drunk and generous Avith his money ; a fcAV days 
after his body Avas Avashed ashore some miles doAvn the Canadian. 
And yet I am assured, and believe it, a man Avith a legitimate busi- 
ness, who Avill let Avhisky alone, can traA'el through this Territory as 
safely as any other. The A^isitor can not alAA^ays feel as certain of this 
as he Avould like to. The night " Brick " Pomeroy reached Muscogee 
three men Avere shot dead. '■' Brick " Avalked from the train to the dining- 
car, and spent the night ; Avalked thence to the earliest morning train 
and left the Territory. 

After two days at this liA'ely toAvn, Ave concluded Ave had better see 



198 WESTERN WILDS. 

the Creeks at home, and started afoot for the Agency, traveling over a 
beautiful, rich prairie, gently rolling, rising from the river into long 
ridges, which occasionally terminated in sharp bluffs, crowned with 
pretty groves. The prospect w^as delightful by nature, and not a little 
enlivened by the numerous herds of cattle cropping the rich herbage. 
The tasty groves, the high prairie, and the slow-moving herds, with 
an occasional group of horses, produced the exact likeness of an old and 
wealthy estate, with pretty parks and stock grazing about the lawn* 
and meadows. Eight or ten miles west of Muscogee, we entered a 
region of rude log-cabins and gaunt farm stock, where black faces 
peered at us through the cracks of "worm fences," and occasional 
''free nigger" patches showed something like civilization. A colored 
girl replied, in answer to our queries, " Agency over thar," and a mile 
further brought us to a beautiful grove, in which w^as an irregular 
square of log-cabins, including some three or four acres. We saw 
no signs of Government buildings, and but one neat, commodious 
house. There we were directed to a double log building, correspond- 
ing to those of the poorest farmers in Indiana, some distance from the 
square in a field, and that we found to be the Agency. 

The place is overrun by frecdmen. A continuous line of settle- 
ments, with " patches " rather than farms, extends for ten miles along 
the Arkansas, with a population of perhaps a thousand freedmen and 
a hundred Creeks. Only the poorest and lowest of the Indians live 
among the blacks, but there has been more amalgamation in this 
than in any other tribe. The pure Creeks differ noticeably from the 
Cherokees. They are shorter, broader, and rather darker; without 
the high cheek bones and solemn gravity of the others, and with a 
more cheerful and kindly expression. Tlie white traders say they are 
more industrious than the Cherokees, but less intelligent. Their 
history is an aboriginal romance. They long ago occupied a district 
far west of the Mississippi, whence they slowly moved eastward and 
northward — a nation of predatory warriors. Just before them were 
the Alabamas. The two fought at every encounter, and the latter 
invariably retreated. Thus they fought through Arkansas and Mis- 
souri, then across the Mississippi and Ohio, then through Kentucky 
and Tennessee, and into Alabama. Here tradition says the old chief 
and prophet of the foremost tribe, supposing the Creeks would not 
follow them, struck his standard into the earth and shouted: "Ala- 
bah-ma — Ala-bah-ma!" — "Here we rest! Here we rest!" 

But the Creeks w^ere soon upon them, and finally conquered and 
absorbed them, as they did all they conquered, if the vanquished had 



OKLAHOMA. 199 

fought well. In this manner they have also adopted the remnants of 
the Uchees, Natchees, and Hitchitees; and these, with the Alabamas, 
still have separate towns and distinct languages in the Creek Nation. 
They continued eastward, and after a long and bloody war with the 
Cherokees, in which neither nation could conquer the other, made a 
peace which has never been broken, and turned southward. In the 
war of 1812, a portion of the tribe who joined the British were 
driven into exile, taking the name of Seminoles (Say-me-no-lays), 
meaning "outcasts." These, joined with fugitive slaves from Geor- 
gia and the Carolinas, became a separate nation, and long maintained 
a desperate war with the whites amid the swamps and glades of 
Florida. Both nations, after years of trouble and broken treaties, 
with many transactions which reflect no credit upon the United States 
officials, were finally sent to this country during the administrations 
of John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, and Martin Van Buren. 

The government of the Creek Nation is republican in form ; the en- 
tire " constitution " and laws are printed in a small pamphlet of less 
than twenty pages. The law-making power is vested in a House of 
Kings and a House of Warriors; the members of each are elected 
for four years, by general vote of all the male Creeks over eighteen 
years of age. Each of the forty towns sends one member to the 
House of Kings; to the House of Warriors one, and an additional 
member for each two hundred citizens. The Kings elect their own 
President, the Warriors their own Speaker-in-Council ; each house 
elects its own interpreter, and all speeches made in English are forth- 
with rendered aloud into Creek, and vice versa. The records are kept 
in English. * 

The Executive of the Nation is styled the Principal Chief, his Vice 
the Second Chief; they also are elected for four years each, and thus 
the entire Government is liable to a complete change at each election. 
The Judiciary begins with the High Court, which consists of five 
persons, chosen by the Council for four years. They have original 
jurisdiction in all cases involving over one hundred dollars, and ap- 
pellate jurisdiction from lower courts in criminal matters. The Na- 
tion is divided into six districts, in each of which a judge is elected 
by the qualified voters; he has jurisdiction of all cases involving sums 
under one hundred dollars, and local criminal jurisdiction. Of 
course, with such a brief and simple criminal code, there is much left 
to the discretion of the judge, and, as far as a white man can see, he 
seems to have almost absolute power. The death penalty is often in- 
flicted. Each district elects a "light horse company," consisting of 



200 ^ WESTERN WILDS. 

one lieutenant and four privates; these act as sheriff and deputies under 
orders ©f the District Courts, and are subject to a general call from the 
Principal Chief to execute the mandates of the High Court, or sup- 
press extensive disorders. In hundreds of instances these light-horse 
companies and the District Judge sitnply make the law as they go, 
calling court on each particular case, following the statute if there is 
one, and if not, assigning such penalty as in their judgment fits the 
case. The laws are singularly plain and unambiguous. No space is 
wasted in definitions, it being taken for granted, apparently, that 
every body knows the meaning of such terms as " steal " and 
" murder." 

After a few days at the Agency, where we were handsomely enter- 
tained, and assisted in our researches by Major J. G. Vore and his as- 
sistant, Mr. A. S. Purinton, who were in charge, we determined to 
visit the Tallahassee Mission, a sort of high school for the Creeks. 
Starting afoot, Mr. De Bruler and I soon reached the Arkansas, and, 
after half an hour's vigorous shouting, the ferryman came over, with 
two negroes. A sudden storm drove us to the nearest hut. A bright 
mulatto soon appeared, who informed us that he was a slave to the 
Creeks " afoh de wah ; run away and went off den, which I larnt 
Ingliss, sah." So, with him for interpreter, we succeeded in an hour 
in extracting half a dozen remarks from Charon the Silent, as we 
named the determinedly reticent Creek. The storm passed, and we 
were set across the river, for which Charon demanded " pahly-hok- 
kohlen hoonunvy, pahly osten " — rendered by our linguist to mean 
" twenty cents a man — forty cents all." This we disbursed, and footed 
it across the bottom over a road rendered very toilsome by the rain. 
At dark, splashed and weary, we reached the Mission, which is beau- 
tifully situated in an open grove, appearing to us a very haven of 
rest — fitting emblem of the faith and hope which planted it in this 
wilderness. 

There we spent a most delightful Sabbath, entertained by the Su- 
perintendent, ilev. \V. S. Robertson, and family. This mission has 
been thirty years in existence, and has educated all the leading men 
of the Creek Nation. The teachers are selected and paid by the Pres- 
byterian Board of Home Missions ; the material interests are looked 
after by the Nation, which sends a boy and girl from each of the 
forty towns, a new one being selected for every departure. Supjier 
was called soon after our arrival; we took 'S'isitors' chairs," and 
watched with much interest the orderly incoming of some seventy 
young Creeks, of every age from eight to twenty-two. Nearly all 



OKLAHOMA. 



201 



Avere purt bloods, and the whole scene was a revelation to me. I had 
seen the savage-painted Indian, and the miserable vagabond on the 
white frontier; but the civilized, scholarly Indian boy and girl pre- 
sented a new sight. Supper over, a chapter was read, and the school 
united in prayers and a devotional hymn. Then we were invited to 
hear classes, who volunteered an evening recitation for our benefit. 

Their natural talent is surprising, particularly in drawing and fig- 
ures. Every Creek boy seems to know the law of outline by instinct. 
In figures they are very 
quick ; in reading not so 
apt. Creek and English 
being the only languages 
used at the Mission, every 
Uchee, Natchee, or Ala- 
bama pupil has to learn 
a new language before 
his education proper be- 
gins. 

Like the common 
school system of our own 
people, this school tends 
to break down tribal prej- 
udice, and make the peo- 
ple homogeneous. Two 
Uchee boys, of the read- 
ing class, conversed awhile 
in that language at my 
request. It is entirely 
devoid of labials ; for five " slem-lem-an-dah-mouch-wah-gek." 

minutes they touched the lips together but once. It also rarely re- 
quires the dentals ; and thus to a Uchee it is almost impossible to dis- 
tinguish between b and p, d and t, or a and e. This inability pro- 
duces most ludicrous results in spelling. Pronouncing the words to 
be spelled orally, the teacher can not possibly determine in the quick 
sound whether the spelling is correct or not — that is, with Uchee 
beginners. But, when they come to write it on the slate, hat becomes 
p-e-t, hat h-e-d, bad b-e-t, etc. The Creeks are lively and aSection- 
ate, but their original language does not contain a single term of en- 
dearment. Some have been adopted from the English, others formed 
by combining primitive words in their own tongue. The word for 
sweetheart has eight syllables — a nice jawbreaker to murmur in a 




202 WESTERN WILDS. 

maiden's ear by moonlight. Love (between the sexes) is skm-lem-an- 
dah-mouch-ivah-ger. A girl must be delighted to hear a fellow say 
he has a good deal of that for her. 

Mr. Robertson, with the aid of an interpreter, lias adapted our 
alphabet to the language, and published a series of books with trans- 
lations of many of our hymns. These we heard at the Mission Sab- 
bath School, which was also a delightful surprise in its way. I felt 
all the enthusiasm of the occasion when the seventy sweet voices, led 
by Miss Robertson with an organ, took up the strain of " Shall we 
gather at the River?" in the Creek. Here is the first verse: 

BEAUTIFUL RIVER. 

Uerakkon teheceyvr haks 
Cesvs em estolke full an 
Cesvs liket a fihnet os 
Hoyayvket filinet os. 

CHOBUS — Momos mon teheceyvres 

Uerakko herusen esclierusen 
Mekusapvlken etohkv liket 
Fulleye munkv tares. 

C is pronounced as ch in child, e as i in j^i^h "^ ^s short u; y between 
two vowels unites with the preceding one to form a diphthong, and 
with the latter is pronounced as 2/; a is pronounced ah as in father, 
and all other letters as in English. 

Thence we continued our survey of the Creek country by leisurely 
journeys among the farmei's. The soil is generally fertile, while 
almost every dwelling is the center of a beautiful grove of fruit trees, 
at that season green with springing leaves, or white and red with 
blossoms, giving off the sweet scents of advancing spring. The 
people as a rule are simple, civil and hospitable; the Nation contains 
several churches aggregating a thousand members. But the natural 
tendency, as with . other Indians, is towards a sort of fatalism. 
Among all the races in the Territory conjurers are found, and the 
testimony is universal that they never fail to cure snake-bites. There 
is not a dissenting statement from white, black or red ! If you ask 
the more intelligent how they explain it, the answer generally is.- 
"I don't explain it; I don't believe in conjuration; I only know the. 
cure is certain." The conjurer uses no medicine but a small leaf of 
tobacco or other plant, which he liolds upon his tongue while pro% 
nouncing the charm. He applies it then to the bite, pressing it 
smartly with the ball of his thumb, and in less than twenty -four 
hours the patient is entirely well. 

At noon of a bright April day we return to the railroad at Mus- 



OKLAHOMA. 203 

cogee, to find matters worse than ever. As we sit down to dinner in 
the boarding-car, a half-blood Creek, crazy Avith smuggled whisky, is 
galloping up and down the row, brandishing a huge revolver, and 
threatening death to all opponents. At one moment he rides his 
horse into a shop, emerges the next, and gallops upon a group of 
wenches, who scatter with a chorus of screams. A file of soldiers 
from a detachment on the road appear on the scene, arrest and disarm 
him, and the town returns to its normal condition of listlessness and 
idle chatter. Severe penalties are prescribed against selling whisky 
in the Territory, and that which is smuggled in, is the vilest compound 
known to the trade, familiarly called "tarantula juice," from the 
deadliest insect in the country. And this reminds me of the appro- 
priate names for intoxicating liquors, which have been evolved by a 
riotous Western fancy. Nobody says: "Will you take a drink?'* 
At Chicago they say : " Name your family disturbance." At Omaha : 
" Nominate your poison." At Cheyenne : " Will you drive a nail in 
your coffin?" At Salt Lake: "Well, shall we irrigate?" At Vir- 
ginia City: "Shall Ave lay tJie dust?" But in Arizona and the more 
southern Territories the universal formula is : " Let's nip some tarant- 
ula juice." Such are the pleasing metaphors wherewith the frontiers- 
man invites to refreshment. 

The railroad was pushing southward as fast as a small army could 
lay track, to meet the Texas Central, which was in like manner push- 
ing northward toward Red River. From Muscogee we traversed the 
last section then built, to the main Canadian River. Between the tAvo 
Canadians AA'as the passenger terminus, near the Old Methodist Mis- 
sion ; and here Ave pause a feAV hours. Dusty and travel-Avorn pilgrims 
are coming in from all points in Western Texas, and spruce, clean 
looking people from civilization, starting out on long and toilsome 
journeys through the sandy plains betAveen here and the Rio Grande. 
ITience to Main Canadian we traverse a dense forest; all the point 
betAveen the two rivers is heavily timbered, and choked Avith under- 
brush. The main stream is noAV Avide and rapid, apparently thick 
Avith red mud and sand ; but after standing a few minutes, it is sweet 
enough to the taste, and close examination sIioavs the stream to be tol- 
erably clear, the red shoAving through the Avater from the bottom. 

We observed, Avith some nervousness, that Brad Collins, a " White 
Cherokee " desperado, with a dozen of his retainers had come down 
on our train. Soon the smuggled whisky they brought begun to take 
eifect, and half a dozen young half-breeds were galloping about toAvn, 
firing pistols in the air, and yelling like demons. My companion 



204 WESTERN WILDS. 

took a brief look, and suggested : " This is a devilish queer place, 
let's get out of it." I was glad I had waited for him to speak first, 
but promptly acquiesced ; and we crossed the Canadian into the 
Choctaw Nation, and spent the day with Tandy Walker, Esq. This 
gentleman, nephew of Ex-Governor Walker of the Choctaws, is nearly 
white, and strongly in favor of throwing open the Territory to white 
settlement. Once a leading man, he is now politically ostracized for 
his opinions. And here I may as well present a view of the party 
divisions which have caused so much trouble and some bloodshed in 
this Territory. It is a " Territory " only in a geographical sense, 
not being governed under an organic act like Utah or Montana. It 
was set apart by Act of Congress of May 28, 1830, and each Indian 
nation has its own government. The proposition, before Congress 
ever since the war, is to organize it into the " Territory of Okla- 
homa," (a Cherokee compound signifying the "Red men's State") 
and throw it open to white settlers. Hence the three parties among 
the Indians: 

First — the Territorial party : in favor of Oklahoma and white im- 
migration, after setting apart, in fee simple, a considerable farm to 
each Indian. 

Second — the Ockmnlkce Constitution party : in favor of sectioniz- 
ing the land, giving each Indian his farm and the two railroads their 
grant, keeping all the rest in common as it is now, and uniting all 
the tribes under one government of their own (the Ockmulkee Con- 
stitution), with American citizenship and local courts; but no terri- 
torial arrangement and no white settlement. 

Third — the party in favor of the present condition. 

On further examination I found that the first party was very small 
among all the nations, and that the members of it were regarded as 
traitors to their race; that the third party had as yet a large majority 
of the whole people, but that the Ockmulkee Constitution promised 
most for the Indians, and had the support of their most able men. 

The Choctaws number 16,000, the Chickasaws 6,000; the two con- 
stitute one nation, the citizens of either tribe having equal rights in 
all respects. Their country lies between the Main Canadian and Ar- 
kansas, and is two hundred miles from east to west: an area equal to 
two or three New England States, the eastern third very fertile, the 
center good for timber and pasture, the western part running into the 
flinty hills and barren plains. The citizens are more advanced in 
civilization than the Creeks ; they enforce their laws much better, 
particularly in cases where whites or half-breeds are concerned. 



OKLAHOMA. 205 

With their sporadic population timber increases yearly, game is 
abundant and cheap, common pasturage is plenty, and cattle are 
grown at a cost of from three to eight dollars per head. The Choc- 
ta\ys were immensely wealthy before the war. Single herders num- 
bered their cattle by thousands. The average wealth was twice as 
great as that of any purely agricultural community in the States, and 
golden ornaments of every sort were profusely displayed on horses, 
carriages, and the Indians' persons. The amount of fine clothes and 
jewelry sold by traders here at that time seems incredible. The war 
swept them clean; literally broke up and ruined them, leaving noth- 
ins: but the land. Before the war Mr. Walker was accounted a million- 
aire. He began again, in 1865, with fifty dollars and one saddle-mule. 
He was ahead of his neighbors only in this : his fifty dollars were in 
greenbacks, theirs were in Confederate notes. Those who " went 
South" were even worse ruined than those who "took the Federal 
side." Some died of grief and despair, on returning home in 1865. 
But most went resolutely to work, and are once more prospering. 
But many years Avill be required for those vast herds of cattle to 
be renewed. This neighborhood has every sign of a prosperous 
community of civilized farmers. On the whole, I rather like the 
Choctaws. 

We soon returned to Muscogee, and on the afternoon of a sultry 
day set out to walk to Fort Gibson. Three miles brought us upon 
the old cattle trail from Texas to Kansas City, where we Avere soon 
overtaken by a grizzled and weather-beaten old Texan, who politely 
asked us to take a seat in his wagon. Eyeing our valises suspiciously, 
he asked : 

" Got any whisky in them ? " 

" No," was the answer, with expressed regrets. 

" Ef ye had, ye'd walk, you bet ; would n't have you get in here 
with one pint of whisky for five hundred dollars ! " 

This radical temperance platform in this latitude excited our aston- 
ishment, and we called for an explanation. He gave it : "A burnt 
child dreads the fire. One pint, yes, one dram o' whisky 'd cost me 
this hull load. These deputy marshals — d — n the thievin' rascals, I 
say — they '11 search y'r wagon any minit ; and if they find one drop, 
5. way goes the hull load to Fort Smith, and d — n the haight of it d'y 
ever see again. One trip a nice lookin' chap enough asked me to 
ride. He got in, and pretty soon pulled a flask. ' Drink,' says he. 
' After you,' says I. Well, in less 'n ten minutes comes the marshals 
and grabbed us. If they find a drop even on a man as is ridin' with 



206 WESTERN WILDS. 

you, they take every thing, and nary dollar do you ever git. Why, 
that feller was in with 'em, of course. They seize every thing they 
can git a pretense for, and then divide. There won't any body but a 
scamp or a rough take such an office as deputy marshal in this 
country. They 're all on the make, and in with these roughs. 
That's what I say." 

Three miles with our slightly rebellious Texan friend brought us to 
the Arkansas River, and to a steam ferry-boat. At the mouth of 
Grand River, is the head of navigation on the Arkansas. Steamers 
run up the Grand River, which has backwater from the Arkansas, 
three miles or more, and land at Fort Gibson, By a series of dams 
and locks, like those on Green River, Kentucky, I am convinced the 
Arkansas could have slack-water navigation a hundred miles or more 
above this. The waters of Grand River and those of the Arkansas 
show like two broad bands, one misty blue and the other dirty red 
and yellow, in the main channel as far as we can see below their junc- 
tion. The two streams, the clear and the muddy, run side by side 
for nearly twenty miles, Avhen a series of riffles and sharp turns 
mingles them freely in a fluid of pale orange tint. 

At Fort Gibson we found quarters at the usual doublc-log-house 
hotel, kept by a Pennsylvania Dutchman, with a "White Cherokee" 
wife ; and there we met Judge Vann, Hon. A. Rattling Gourd, and 
other prominent Cherokees. This is a rather handsome town for the 
border, with several neat brick and frame houses. After a few days' 
study of local politics, we concluded more was to be learned at 
the capital, and started afoot for Tahlequah. The distance is twenty- 
two miles, which we must divide in two journeys. "Better stop at 
Widow Skrimshee's over night; got a good house and a white son-in- 
law; 'taint but fifteen miles there," said our new friends. So, valise 
on shoulder, we started for the widow's, through a beautiful and well- 
improved country for the first six miles. The log-houses here are 
superior in style to those in most new countries, being, high, neatly 
squared at the corners, and well shingled. There are few frames. 
The improvements are much finer than among the Creeks, and about 
equal to those of the Choctaws. From rolling prairie we descended 
into a broad valley with heavy timber. From the open and windy 
plain to this grove was like going from pleasant April to sultry July. 
Our valises seemed to weigh a hundred each ; our clothing dripped 
with sweat, and we were soon exhausted by fatigue. We turned aside 
to the residence of a "White Cherokee" — the usual doublc-log-house 
with porch between — where we lay prostrate in the passage, smoked 



0KLAH03IA. 207 

a pipe of his "home raisin'," and "interviewed" him as to the situa- 
tion. He had been a Union Cherokee; took a hundred men out of 
here by night in the fall of '61 ; went North and became a captain; 
came back after the war, to find his house and fences burned, and all 
his stock run oif — some to Kansas, some to Texas. " Was rich afo' 
the war ; derned poor now, but gittin' started again. Hated the loss 
of my sheep wuss'n any thing else — fine bloods — couldn't get others 
like 'em." 

At dark, fagged and heated, we reached the widow's. She was a 
bright, half-blood Cherokee, and entertained us till late bed-time with 
accounts of "the old nation in Geaugey," and their fights and troubles 
till they were sent here. Thence we traveled on to Tahlequah, the 
Cherokee capital, a pretty town of perhaps eight hundred people. 
Our first acquaintance was with William Boudinot, brother of the Elias 
Boudinot who has been so active at AVashington pushing the Okla- 
homa Bill. William is editor of the Cherokee Advocate, official organ 
of the Nation, published in English and Cherokee, and a handsome, 
well-conducted sheet. The Choctaws also have a small paper called 
the Vindicator, these being the only papers published in the Territory. 
Tahlequah was for us rich in historic interest, and we spent three 
days most delightfully among the curious old records of the Nation, 
here preserved. 

The Cherokees represent the best history and the highest hope of 
the Indian race. If they are a failure, the race can not be civil- 
ized — the aborigine is doomed. They have been an organized nation 
with constitution and written laws for eighty years ; far back of that 
they were superior to all neighboring tribes. The oldest printed law 
I can find bears date of Broom's Town (in Georgia), 11th Sept. 1808, 
and is as follows : 

Resolved, by the Chiefs and Warriors in a National Council Assembled: . . . Wlien 
any person or persons which may or shall be charged with stealing a horse, and upon 
conviction by one or two witnesses, he, she, or they, shall be punished with one hundred 
stripes on the bare back, and the punishment to be in proportion for stealing property of 
less value ; and should the accused person or persons raise up with arms in his or their 
hands, as guns, axes, spears, and knives, in opposition to the regulating company, or 
should they kill him or them, the blood of him or them shall not be required of any of 
the persons belonging to the regulators from the clan the person so killed belonged to. 

Accepted: Black Fox, Principal Chief. 

Pathkiller, Second Chief. 

TOOCHALAR. 

Chas. Hicks, Secretary to Council. 

Other acts bear the signatures of Ehnautaunaueh, Secretary; and 
" Turtle-at-home, Speaker of Council." The constitution of May 6, 



208 WESTERN WILDS. 

1817, sets forth that fifty-four towns have agreed on "a form for 
future government." The following act, passed in 1819, hints at a 
Credit Mobilicr Scheme : 

^\'^lereas, The Big Rattling Gourd, William Grimit, Betsey Broom, The Dark, Daniel 
Griffin, and Mrs. Lesley have made certain promises, etc.: 

Be it now, therefore, knomi, .... The above persons are the only legal proprietors 
and a privileged company to establish a turnpike, leading from Widow Fools', at the forks 
of Hightower and Oostinallah, to the first creek east of John Field's, known by the name 
Where-Vann-was-shot, etc. 

Some of the dark statesmen retained their aboriginal names, some 
simply translated them into plain English, and others adopted new 
names from missionaries or noted Americans. Hence we find among 
the officials: Young Wolf (perhaps a rising w^arrior), Okanstotah 
Logan, Bark Flute (probably a musical orator), Oolayoa, and Soft 
Shell Turtle! Judge Rattling Gourd is a prominent citizen of the na- 
tion at present. John Jolly and Spring Frog — perhaps the Sunset Cox 
and Ben Butler of their politics — were active in effecting the union. 

The Eastern and Western Cherokees reunited in their present 
country in 1839, and the "Act of Union" is signed by James Brown, 
Te-kc-chu-las-kee, George Guess (Se-quo-yah), Jesse Bushyhead, Lewis 
Ross, Tobacco Will, Thomas Candy, Young Wolf, Ah-sto-la-ta, and 
some others. At the conclusion is this indorsement: 

" The foregoing instrument Avas read, considered, and approved by 
us, this 23d day of August, 1839: Major Pullum, Young Elders, Deer 
Track, Young Puppy (!), Turtle Fields, July, The Eagle, The Crying 
Buffalo, and a great number of respectable old settlers and late emi- 
grants too numerous to be recorded." 

Some two hundred years ago the Cherokees, then known as an 
oflPshoot from the Waupanuckee (whom the French called Lenni 
Lenape, and the Americans have since named Delawares), were 
pushing slowly down from western North Carolina towards the coast. 
On the Yemassee — celebrated by the genius of Gilmore Simms — they 
came in contact with the whites ; and twenty years before the Revolu- 
tion occurred a bloody contest, in which they were driven westward. 
In the Continental forces were two lieutenants, afterwards known to 
fame as General Francis Marion and Major Peter Horry. The major 
in his account tells with surprise of the superior dwellings and ad- 
vancement of the Cherokees. Since that time they have made twenty 
successive treaties with the United States; and if any faith what- 
ever is to be kept with Indians, their title to the region they now 
occupy is as good as that of any white man to his land. They aban- 



OKLAHOMA. 



209 



doned all claims to their lands in Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and 
North Carolina, on condition of receiving a fee simple to this land, 
witnessed by a patent from the President. This title has been twice 
jironounced valid by the Snpreme Conrt, and recognized in eight 
solemn treaties. Could title to land be more perfect? 

In 1860, they were, as a community, the wealthiest people in the 
West. Single herders owned stock to the value of a hundred thou- 
sand dollars. In this mild climate and upon these rich prairies cattle 
multiplied rapidly. There was soon no land "running to waste," for 
all was utilized as pasture. Many white men sought citizenship or 
married Cherokee girls, and were adopted, and the advance of the 
Nation was healthful, natural and rapid. 

In 1865 their country was almost a waste; the people in extreme 
poverty. But they came back from the war and sadly went to work 
again. Now it is proposed, because part of them joined the Confed- 
erates, that all shall lose their present title and take their chances 
under a new allotment. 

The Indian Territory contains about 70,000 square miles — one- 
third very fertile, a third or more fit only for pasture-lands, and the 
remainder, the westward portion, comparatively a desert. The four 
little governments — Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, and Seminole — are 
republican in form ; over all of them extends a sort of Federal 
protectorate. At least twenty little remnants of tribes have been 
adopted into these nations, such as the Quawpaws, Senecas, Wyan- 
dottes, and Delawares. Their total is nearly as follows : 

CHEEOKEE NATION. 



Full bloods 


. 






. 8,000 


Mixed . 


. 






. 4,000 


Freed men 








. 1,500 


Whites man 


ied 


in 


or adopted 


500 


Delawares 








900 


Shawnees 






. 


700 


Wyandottes 






. . 


400 


Quawpaws 






. 


. 200 


Senecas 


otal Cherokee Nation . 


. 100 


T 


. 16,300 



To which should be added some 2,000 Cherokees now in North 

Carolina, who are desirous of settling here, and for whose removal 

the Nation is making provisions, bringing the whole number up to 

about 18,000. I do not here include those new tribes west of 96°, 

not yet formally incorporated. 
14 



210 WESTERN WILDS. 

Full bloods . . (creek nation.) . . 9,000 

"VVhitcs and mixed bloods ..... 1,000 

Frecdmen ....... 4,000 

Seminoles 2,000 



Total Creek citizens . . . 16,000 



Pure Choctaws 
Mixed 

Whites 

Chickasaws 

Freedmen 



(CHOCTAW NATION.) . . 10,000 
4,000 

1,000 

. 5,000 
2,000 



Total Choctaw citizens .... 22,000 

Osages west of 96° . (minor tribes.) . . 3,000 

Kaws, west of 96° 600 

Uuassigned, perhaps ..... 3,400 

Total minor tribes .... 7,000 
Grand total 63,000 

The Choctaws and Cherokees have the greatest number of intelli- 
gent men, but the Creeks are just now doing the most for the rising 
generation. They have three Mission High Schools, under control 
respectively of the Baptist, Methodist, and Presbyterian churches. 
In 1872 there were in the whole Territory a hundred and sixty com- 
mon schools — the high average of one to every four hundred of the 
population. The number now reaches nearly two hundred. 

The present weakness of these people is their imperfect land tenure. 
The land is held in common by the whole tribe, but whatever area 
anv citizen incloses with a lawful fence is his while he occupies it. 
He may be said to own the improvements, but not the land. Any 
thing may be removed at the owner's will ; hence there is practically 
no real estate, no conservative landed interest — the only true founda- 
tion for a progressive society and a stable civil structure. The 
herder, hunter or explorer, from Kansas or Texas, rides through a 
beautiful tract, and, when he asks who owns it, the only answer is: 
"The Injuns — it's Injun land;" that is, in his estimation, nobody's 
land, if he can by force or fraud get a foothold. If he were told 
that it was the property of John Johnnycake or William Beaverdam, 
or any other individual, with a patent title on which he could sue 
and be sued, the case would be very different to him. A strong 
party, therefore, is rising up, agitating for this reform, which is the 
distinctive feature of the Ocmulkee Constitution. 

There are a score of reasons why a little more time should be given 
the Indians, and why we should not now throw open this country to 



OKLAHOMA. 



211 




'GO WEST." 



general settlement. In the first place, we have solemnly agreed not 
to do it, which is reason enough for any honorable man. Secondly, 
there is no present necessity for it. There are countless millions of 
acres lying idle in every State and Territory north of it, untouched 
by the cultivator, and even unoccupied by the herdsman. It is too 
soon by half a century 
to repeat to these civ- 
ilized Indians the old 
order: "Go West." 
There is room in Ne- 
braska for half a million 
farmers. There is a 
tract in Dakota about 
the size of Indiana, yet 
unappropriated, with a 
climate suitable f o r 
Northern people, and a 
most prolific soil. 
When these are filled, and our population really begins to feel 
crowded, it will be time enough to trouble the Indians. But with 
Kansas on one side and Texas on the other offering millions of acres 
of good land, it seems as if thousands are half crazy to get into the 
Indian Territory just because it is forbidden. 

Our true policy is to secure these people their lands, assist them 
a little in their progress, and make them our agents to deal with the 
wild tribes. Half civilized and barbarous races can best be reached 
through the medium of tlieir more advanced brethren. The nations 
here are already moving in the matter, and a little assistance only is 
needed to enable them to reach and negotiate with all the wild tribes 
of Northern Texas and New Mexico. I am hopeful enough to believe 
that, with a proper policy, all the tribes in the same latitude, except 
possibly the Apaches, might eventually be made citizens of this Ter- 
ritory. We have sent the Indians, as a rule, our worst men and most 
destructive practices, and have systematically broken faith whenever 
it seemed profitable to do so. Here only has a policy something near 
sensible and just been pursued, and the results are not discouraging. 
Let it be improved and extended, and we may reasonably hope the 
Indians of all the southern Territories will be gathered here ; that 
an aboriginal community of two hundred thousand will grow into a 
high civilization ; and in due time we shall have a real native Ameri- 
can State — a progressive and prosperous State of Okk\lioma. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 

No THOROUGHFARE from Oklahoma westward. The country was 
safe enough for three hundred miles from the eastern border; but be- 
tween that and the settlements in New Mexico intervened live hun- 
dred miles of marauding Kioways and murderous Comanches. Stage 
coaches run from Fort Smith out to Fort Sill; beyond that the trav- 
eler must take his chances for a government train, which might go in 
a month or a year. For two men like us, unskilled in wood-craft, 
such a trip alone was courting death. Another line of coaches trav- 
erses Northern Texas to Fort Concho, but we preferred a more north- 
ern route at that season, and turned toward the Kansas Pacific Rail- 
road. 

Traveling leisurely northward through Kansas, we still gained rap- 
idly on the season. Montgomery County presented a succession of 
fertile vales and rolling hills, the latter often rising into picturesque 
mounds crowned with clumps of timber, and over all the rich green 
of advancing spring. In 1868, Montgomery contained twenty settlers 
and one post-office; in 1872, it cast a vote of 3,000, indicating a pop- 
ulation of at least 10,000. The stream of emigration had filled all 
the valleys, then rolled on westward, and after covering the best parts 
of Wilson and Cowley counties, had turned north, and was flowing 
up the Arkansas Valley. The Kansians thus summed up the changes 
since we visited them a month before : " Fine chance o' corn planted, 
an' doin' well; splendid prospect for fruit — peaches sure of a Avhalin' 
crop — but wheat don't look well. In fact that crop ain't a certain 
thing yet in Southern Kansas. Garden spot o' the world, sir; no 
doubt o' that ; but we haven't quite got the land worked down to the 
right pitch for wheat." 

At midnight of May 2d we left the State Line Station for the long 
ride to Denver; and at daylight of the 3d were at Junction City, last 
point of connection with any eastern line of rail. Thence the ]\Iis- 
souri, Kansas and Texas Road runs south-east, down the valley of the 
Neosho to Parsons, in Labette County. So far Ave see no signs of a 
different country from that on the eastern border; timber is plenty 

(219) 



JOURNEY TO THE BIO GRANDE. 



213 



along the streams, the soil is rich, and the road is through a continuous 
line of settlements. We are in the valley of the Kaw or Kansas, 
(aboriginal for "blue" or "smoky") till noon; then leave it for the 
Smoky Hill Valley, after crossing Republican, Big Blue and Solo- 
mon's Fork. These three are big streams — on the mcq). Combined 
they would make a river about the size of the Miami. 

We find the valley pretty well settled for fifty miles west of Junc- 
tion City ; then rise rapidly to the high plains where nothing is seen 
but an occasional stock ranche. We breakfast at Ellsworth, which 
only five years before was the rival of Cheyenne in all that pertains 
to rush, crush, business and 
dev'ltry. It was then the 
terminus of the road — also 
the terminus of at least a 
hundred lives. When I was 
there in October, 1867, J. 
H. Runkle, Esq., Prosecut- 
ing Attorney, informed me 
that for ninety-three days 
there was a homicide every 
day in the town or vicinity. 
Those were the palmy clays of 
your "Wild Bills" (I made 
the acquaintance of the orig- 
inal, and found him quite a 
gentleman), and "Long 
Steves," your "Dad Smith," "Rake Jake" and "Tom Smith of Bear 
River." " Shall we have a man for breakfast?" was the ordinary morning 
salutation ; and usually it was found that somebody had answered the ques- 
tion affirmatively during the night. "A short life and a merry one," 
was the motto of these roysterers. The life was short enough ; its 
merriment will be a matter of doubt. Strange to say, officials who had 
much to do in thwarting or arresting these men, themselves became 
careless of life, or moody and inclined to suicide. " Wild Bill " sleeps 
beneath the green prairies on which he figured in so many tragedies — 
died by the shot of an assassin. "Dad Smith "was hanged by the vig- 
ilantes. "Long Steve" met a like fate at Laramie. "Tom Smith" 
was brained by an ax in the hands of a drunken companion. And 
saddest of all, but a few months ago (February, 1877) came a dispatch 
that J. H. Runkle, U. S. Attorney, committed suicide at Columbia, 
South Carolina. " Rake Jake " made his exit from a tragedy more 




" WILD BILIi "—J. B. HICKOCK. 



214 



WESTERN WILDS. 



dramatic than any ever shown ujwn the stage. With two companions 
he took refuge in his cabin on the prairie, and maintained a desperate 
figiit against the vigihintes. The infuriated Kansians set the dry grass 
on^re; the cabin was soon in flames, and issuing therefrom with a 
revolver in each hand, scattering leaden death on all sides, the 
three died as became their lives, brave men to the last. What a pity 
such nerve should be lost. It was the material for heroes sadly 
perverted. 

" Pity they loved adventurous life's variety ; 
They were so great a loss to good society." 

Ellsworth is quiet enough now. During the season for shipping 
cattle it is a place of some importance ; the rest of the year a cpiiet 

country depot. From 
this on our route is 
through the Big Past- 
ure. It extends from 
latitude 52° in British 
America, to the Rio 
Grande, with an aver- 
age width of three hun- 
dred miles, sloping 
steadily eastward from 
the foot of the Rocky 
Mountains. Say 1,500 
by 300 miles, and we 
have an area of 450,000 
square miles, set apart 
forever by nature as our national grazing ground. Not one acre in twenty 
of it can ever be cultivated ; while at least half the area produces the 
sweetest and most nutritious of grasses. Take a board, four times as long 
as it is wide, lay it north and south, and tilt it a very little toward the 
east, then score it from east to west with a number of furrows, and you will 
have a tolerable map or miniature copy of what is called the " plains." 
The Avestern border, the high plateau near the mountains, has an aver- 
age elevation of 5,000 feet ; thence eastward the general slope is ten feet 
to the mile ; so, by the time we reach the settled portions of Kansas and 
Nebraska, we are but 1,000 feet or so above sea-level. Going west- 
ward you are going up-hill and nearer mountains and deserts ; conse- 
quently into a dryer and colder country, and finally into a region fit 
for nothing but pasturage. 

We hurry on, and soon after noon enter the buffalo country. We 




" SCATTERING LEADEN DEATH ON ALL SIDES.' 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 215 

see few live ones, for it is too early for their great move northward, 
but myriads of the dead. Whole herds died here during the heavy 
snow in the winter of 1871-'72. Far as the eye can reach, or as a 
good field-glass can sweep the horizon, they lie at intervals of eight or 
ten rods, and in every stage of decay. Some appear just as they fell, 
almost entirely preserved — mummified, as it were, by the dry air. 
Others have shrunk to small compass with the hide still entire, and 
others — by far the larger number — are picked and licked to clean 
white skeletons by the wolves. The sight is sad and sickening. 
About the stations the skins are piled in great heaps to dry for 
market — not so bad to the sight as the other, but worse to the smell. 
This region of dead buifaloes extends from first to last, some eighty 
miles, traversing which we saw many thousand of their carcasses. 

Soon we begin to rout out a few live bisons from their herding 
places in the hollows. The cry of " buffalo !" causes a general rush to 
the windows; next come antelope, then prairie dogs, and for hours 
our palace car company resembles a district school at a menagerie. 
Ere long we find the buifalo more numerous, but always at a distance, 
feeding in small groups. The whole appearance of the country has 
changed; the surface is dry and cracked, and the grass has a cured 
look. Dark overtakes us, still fifty miles east of the Colorado 
line. 

We wake at Denver, and hasten to the Broadwell House, where we 
sit down to a good breakfast and a copy of Byers' Rocky Mountain 
Neivs. In its columns we learn that the Democrats have nominated 
Horace Greeley for President ! Thirteen years before he and the la- 
mented Richardson made a journey together by stage over the country 
we have just traversed ; his strong suit then was abuse of Democrats 
as the proslavery party. Time had brought even greater changes in 
our politics than in the wild region then vaguely known as the 
"Pike's Peak country." Three days we rested at Denver, a beautiful 
city with a happy location. But its merits must wait recital till my 
next visit ; I must cut short my stay, as the weather is fast getting hot- 
ter and dryer where I am going. I thought I knew something about 
high tariffs in the West, but when I go to inquire about the fare to 
Santa Fe the intelligence nearly takes my breath. 

The distance is four hundred and fifteen miles, ninety of which we 
go by rail, and the rest by stage. Fare by rail, ten cents per mile ; by 
stage, twenty cents; total to Santa Fe, seventy-four dollars, with a dol- 
lar a meal on the road. Moral : Don't go to Santa Fe, unless you 
have important business. From what I hear, the rates are still higher 



216 



WESTERN WILDS. 



to where I wish to go in Arizona, with the comfort added, however, 
that, in all probability, I can not get there at all, as three drivers have 
lately been killed by the Apaches. Parties are organizing with a view 
of going through the center of Arizona and New Mexico, from Santa 
Fe to Fort Prcscott; but all I consult here shake their heads doubt- 
fully on the subject. However, I have generally observed in travel- 
ing that dangers lessen as one draws near them. At Denver, Mr. De 
Bruler's trip ended, much to my regret, for I was just entering on the 
region where, most of all, I should need an intimate companion. For 

the first stage 
I took the 
Denver & 
Rio Grande 
R a i 1 r o a d — 
the neatest, 
queerest lit- 
tle narrow- 
g u a g e in 
America, but 
usually called 
the " narrow- 
gouge" in 
delicate satire 
on its rates 
of fare. Ten 
cents per mile 

in high; but, before the road was built, it was twenty cents by stage. 
The road had no land subsidy, and the travel is light as yet. Most 
who go that way would be only too glad to pay that rate all the way 
to Santa Fe. 

We journey at a sohre passo gait of ten or fifteen miles an hour, 
southward and up the Platte Valley, which has the appearance of an 
old, settled, and cultivated country. The farm-houses are in much 
better style, and the system of irrigation more scientific than in Utah. 
Farmers are plowing, and the spring crops coming forward finely. 
About 10 A. M. we leave the Platte and follow up a small stream to 
the " Divide." Here we are in the lumber region, as shown by the 
immense stacks of the same about the depots; and the "Divide Hotel 
and Ranche " is built of massive pine logs, in the style of a primitive 
"Hoosier" cabin. Behind it, the cool, dark-green woods invite to a 
halt, and in front, the cold, clear })ool, fed by rivulets from snow- 




" DIVIDE HOTEL AND RANCHE." 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 217 

banks, is well stocked with mountain trout. Singularly enough, near 
the " Divide," on both sides are considerable fields cultivated without 
irrigation, there being sufficient rain when one draws near the summit 
and the timber! The timber causes the rain, or the rain produces the 
timber, or the mountains are the cause of both, or some other suf- 
ficient cause accounts for all three. The plainsmen don't know, and 
perhaps the scientists are equally wise. 

As soon as we pass the summit, and get on the head-waters of the 
Fontaine Que Bouille, we see on all the slopes immense herds of cattle 
and sheep. At Colorado Springs lives one man who has 13,000 sheep 
in this region, and I am reliably informed there are 250,000 head of 
stock in the system of valleys opening out on this stream. The coun- 
try is evidently one of the best in the world for sheep. It is high, 
dry, cool in summer, and not very cold in winter, with just moisture 
enough to produce good grass. For about fifty miles we traverse a 
beautiful grazing region. At the Springs we stop an hour for dinner. 
Here is one of the coming towns of Colorado, having a fine fertile val- 
ley, immense grazing area, and the noted chemical springs — already a 
great place of fashionable resort. I am most agreeably surprised by 
Southern Colorado. There is very little desert, and, except the bare 
mountains, it appears to me a country of great natural richness. The 
valleys are very fertile, and most of the slopes furnish good past- 
urage. 

At Little Buttes we change to the coach, the only passengers beside 
myself being Captain Humphreys, of the United States Army, his wife 
and servant, on their way to Fort Union. At dark we make a brief 
halt at Pueblo, and are oif for the night ride. The first night in a 
coach is always worse than the second ; by that time one's sensibilities 
are dulled, and he can sleep, unless the pounding is harder than com- 
mon. We breakfast at Cocharas, an old-style Mexican hacienda, in a 
beautiful circular valley, seventy miles from Little Buttes. I am still 
fresh as at starting, and make havoc among the wheaten cakes, fried 
eggs, and chopped and stewed mutton, which, with coffee, constitute 
our breakfast — called here, however, tortillas, hiievos, came and cafe re- 
spectively. A plump and pretty senorita sits by, and gives me my first 
lesson in Spanish, with a pleasing variety of smiles and graceful gest- 
ures. Our driver for to-day is " Fat Jack," who, ten years before, 
lived in Cincinnati, and might have traveled as the " Original Living 
Skeleton." Some unnamable and wasting disease had reduced him 
to less than ninety pounds weight. He started West, began to im- 
prove, reached New Mexico, went to driving stage, and now weighs 



218 WESTERN WILDS. 

two Inmdrecl! He is five feet four inches high, and four feet two 
inches around the waist, and has a voice like a fog-horn 

All day we rolled along, the four horses at a sweeping trot, 
over the finest natural roads and through a succession of sublime 
scenery that made us forget fatigue. For a mile in one place we 
drove through a dog-town, the little creatures scampering in all direc- 
tions but a few rods from the coach. The road runs just far enough 
from the base of the mountains to secure a level track ; to our right 
were the red hills rising to blue mountains, and above them the ever- 
snow-clad peaks ; to our left the gently rolling plain fading away till 
its pale green surface met the blue horizon. Most of the day the 
Spanish Peaks seemed just above us, westward; in front was Fisher's 
Peak, of the Raton Mountains, glistening white with snow. For 
hours the last named looks as if it were about five or ten miles 
away. It is fifteen miles on an air line — as determined by the U. S. 
Engineers — from the hotel in Trinidad, at the base of the mountains. 
We reach that place, the last town in Colorado, at 4 P. M., rest an 
hour, take supper, and change to a small, stout uncomfortable coach, 
in which to make the passage of the Raton. We reach the summit 
just at dark, and have a fearful run down the southern side. Fortu- 
nately we can not see the danger, if there is any ; and have nothing to 
do but bounce about in the dark inside the coach, butt each otlier's 
heads, shift ballast to suit the pitching, and enjoy ourselves generally. 
About midnight the jolting ceases, and the gentler motion indicates 
that we have come out into a smooth valley, and on to a good natural 
road. We compose ourselves, hang to the strajjs and get two or three 
hours tolerable sleep. 

Shortly before daylight we are roused by the driver, with notice that 
an important bridge has been washed away, leaving only a foot-log, 
on which the passengers must cross while the coach makes a circuit 
of some miles. Our party of four were soon on the banks of the 
streani, and, by the light of a lamp, saw a fearful gorge, crossed by 
one narrow log, while fifteen feet below ran a stream strong enough 
to wash us out of sight in a moment. In vain the ladies were urged 
to try the passage; lacking confidence, a fliU would have been certain. 
While we stood shivering on the brink, like a group of sinners ready 
to cross the River Styx, I noticed that the banks were not too steep 
for descent, and so climbed down by the aid of rocks and buslies, to 
the water's edge. The other male passenger soon followed, and we 
found enough of the ruins to construct a half-floating bridge. An 
hour's labor, with the driver kneeling on the log above to light us to 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 219 

our work, made a bridge on which the ladies succeeded in being 
helped across with fewer screams than could have been expected. A 
short walk brought us to the next station, where the coach overtook 
us in an hour. 

We are now out upon the high plains of north-eastern New Mexico, 
a region of tierce winds and chilling rains at this season, inhabited 
only by nomadic herders. We breakfast at Maxwell's Ranche, head- 
quarters of the Maxwell estate, an old Mexican grant containing two 
or three hundred square miles, including fifty sections of the best land 
in New Mexico, and one gold mine. Maxwell has lately sold the 
grant to an English company, who are bringing in machinery to work 
the mine, and utilize the abundant water-power. A good breakfast, 
with a pint of hot coffee apiece, restored the intellectual balance, 
and we entered upon the third day of staging with renewed vigor. 

We travel all day in a south-east direction over rolling plains and 
low mountain spurs, leaving the main range some distance to the 
west, and cross the Rayado, Ocate, and minor tributaries of the Can- 
adian. At noon a cold rain comes on, changing soon to a light sleet ; 
we are miserable, and long for port. Late in the afternoon we reach 
Fort Union, when Captain Humphreys and family leave us, and my 
only companion is a young German thence to Las Vegas. This is a 
little south of Santa Fe on the headwaters of the Pecos River. It 
dates back to the early days of Spanish occupation, and is a rather 
prosperous place of three or four thousand. There our coach took on 
three U. S. army officers and the Right Reverend John B. Lamy, 
bishop of the diocese, who exerted himself to cheer up the heavy 
hours of the night as the coach labored through the mountain passes 
down to Santa Fe. The cold was intense, and the dawn showed three 
inches of freshly fallen snow. The open growth of mountain pines 
relieved the landscape but little ; the bare knolls looked inexpressibly 
dreary, and the dark gorges suggested wild beasts and banditti. The 
rising sun illumined the ragged peaks to our left, and poured a flood 
of light through the side canons, bringing out the red and yellow 
stripes upon the wind-worn rocks, and producing for a brief space a 
scene of strange, weird beauty. At one station the occupants were 
dressing a bear which they had killed the previous night. 

This is my fourth day of continuous travel, and I begin to 
Aveaken; my head pitches forward and back in involuntary "cat- 
naps" of a minute each. After four hours riding down hill, 
by 10 o'clock in the morning the snow had disappeared; once 
more nature asserted herself, and I w^as really feeling bright again 



220 



WESTERN WILDS. 



M"lien we came in sight of Santa Fe. In all my travels I never re- 
member beino; so disappointed. One might pass within two miles of 

the city and 
It 



miss it 
is not in 
the Rio 
(t r a 11 d e 
Valley, as 
I had sup- 
posed, but 
at least 
twenty 
miles from 
that river, 
quite in a 
hollow, and 
tippears a 
miserable, 
1 o w, flat 
collection 
() f m u d 
huts. Some 
s(piares are 
walled i ii 
with mud, 
stones and 
adobes; 
t h e n t h e 
width of a 
house roof- 
ed around 
the square 
on the in- 
side; parti- 
tion walls 
are built. 




' SUGGESTED WILD BEASTS AND BANDITTI." 



passages cut through, and a score of dwellings in one group are 
complete. As the coach rolls through the narrow, ugly streets, it 
looks more like driving through a dirt cut in some excavation than 
the streets of a city. As we near the center of town these 
squares seems more compact ; holes appear to have been cut through. 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 221 

making shut alleys or narrow streets, and other openings show the 
interior of these mud-wallcd squares to be a sort of stamping ground 
in common, for pigs, chickens, jackasses, children, ugly old women 
and " Greasers." 

Reaching the plaza, things look a little better. There at least is a 
patch of green, a tract grown up in alfalfa, or Spanish clover. We 
stop at the Exchange, the only hotel in the city for white men, or 
rather Americans, the other distinction, though perfectly accurate, not 
being well relished here. The Exchange is a one-story square, like 
all the rest; but across the middle of the square is a line of buildings 
containing the dining-room and kitchen, and dividing the stable-vard 
and poultry run from the open court for human use. An arched way 
between the kitchen and dining-room connects the two courts; on the 
human side women and children take their recreation, and men of 
quiet or literary tastes can sit and read ; while the stable side is sacred 
to dog-fights, cock-fights, wrestling-matches, pitching Mexican dol- 
lars and other exclusively manly pursuits. The people of Santa Fe 
evidently do not take in their philosophy the statement that •• Man 
was made to mourn." 

But I have little time to note these facts, for soon after leavintr the 
coach my head is rolling as in a fit of sea-sickness; and I soon take 
to bed, where I remain for fourteen hours. Rising refreshed, I sec 
the city in a fairer light. The streets are dreary in themselves, but 
the wayfarers are picturesque. Here comes a mountaineer with a 
caballai'do of donkeys, each bearing his little load of wood or hay — 
piled high on his back and strapped as only a Mexican can strap it. 
Next is a well-to-do citizen — always fairer than the common people — 
with all the pride o{ the gente fina ; then a Pueblo Indian with redder 
complexion than his wild congener, and curiously striped and col- 
ored blanket wrapping his stocky form. White soldiers in blue are 
numerous, for this is military headquarters for a large district; stylish 
officers with American wives brighten the principal street or saunter 
in the plaza, while heavily loaded army wagons drag slowly through 
the dust. The local traders, mostly Jews, add not a little to the com- 
fort of the place ; they speak all the languages used here, and are all 
things to all men to make it pleasant for visitors. 

The sun shines from a sky of dazzling purity, but the air is cool ; 
fires are necessary in the hotel parlor except for a few hours of midday, 
and I wear my overcoat on the streets. The city has a summer 
climate like that of Quebec, and a winter atmosphere much like that 
of Tennessee. All this is a surprise, as I had somehow got the idea 



222 WESTERN WILDS. 

that Santa Fc was in a hot climate. For incipient pulmonary com- 
plaints it is most excellent ; those in an advanced stage of consump- 
tion die very suddenly here. Just north-east of the city, though 
thirty miles away, "Old Baldy/' the noted mountain peak, rears its 
white head 12,000 feet high; east of us is the Rocky Range; on both 
sides of the city abrupt spurs put out westward toward the Rio 
Grande. The elevation is 7,000 feet, making this one of the highest 
cities in America; hence to the Rio Grande is all tlie way down hill, 
a descent of some twenty-two hundred feet. 

Santa Fe de San Francisco, (" Holy Faith of Saint Francis,") as 
the old Spaniards named this city, has been inhabited by white men 
for two hundred and fifty years; and long before that by Pueblos, one 
of their old towns having been partly on the same site. In the nar- 
row valley of Santa Fe Creek, walled in on all sides except the west, 
by abrupt mountains, it is measurely free from winter storms. On 
the other hand a suit of summer clothes is seldom seen in the streets ; 
there are not thirty days in the year when they are needed. The 
place looks a thousand years old; the dwellings are low, flat and un- 
inviting. I don't think there are twenty two-story houses in the city. 
The residences of some of the officials display a little taste ; two or 
three of the merchants have houses with pretty surroundings, and 
Bishop Lamy has a place which would almost be considered pretty in 
Ohio. I saw perhaps a dozen gardens; all the rest of the view is 
bare, gray and dried-mud color. But here are old withered Mexi- 
cans, whose fathers and grandfathers were born, lived and died in 
this valley ; for Santa Fe was an important place long before AVil- 
liam Penn laid out Philadelphia. Here are old records and Spanish 
manuscripts, with which an antiquarian might spend months of enjoy- 
ment. Yes, Santa Fe has one great merit — it is rich in historic interest. 

The Mexicans are a strangely polite, lazy, hospitable, lascivious, 
kind, careless and unprogressive race. The town saw its best days 
many years ago, when the Santa Fe trade from St. Louis and Inde- 
pendence was of great importance. It is now but the shell of former 
greatness. The population is claimed to be 6,000 ; I do not see 
where they put them. The whites, not of Spanish origin, number 
about five hundred. The Federal officials are Americans, from the 
States; most of the Territorial officers, Mexicans. It is a wonder 
there is so little conflict of jurisdiction, with all these differences of 
race and religion; but New jNIexico is politically the quietest 
of the Territories. Instead of the ever-recurring religious squabbles 
of Utah, or the internecine political strifes of Dakota, these people 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 223 

seem always satisfied with what the officials do, if it is within a 
hundred degrees of right. They consider a governor as only one 
remove below the Deity; or, rather two removes, the Virgin Mary 
coming next, and the governor being about on the same degree as 
St. Peter. To one like myself, accustomed to the studied contempt, or 
lordly indifference, or good-natured and irreverent bonhommie, with 
which Territorial governors are regarded, respectively in Utah, Colo- 
rado and Dakota, it was something amusing to witness old, gray- 
headed men, with hat removed, bowing low to Governor Giddings, 
and to hear the senoras direct their children as he passed, " No hahle 
ustc tanio. El Gobernador /" Politeness is ingrained in all Spanish- 
Americans. 

As with most mixed races, the standard of morals is not high. The 
gcntejina, or upper classes, mingle very little with the common people; 
socially not at all. Except among the aristocracy, who seldom in- 
vite travelers to their houses, there seems to be no distinction at social 
gatherings on the score of character. The indifference on that subject 
would astonish most Americans. If the Stantons, Anthonys, etc., are 
really in earnest in the statement that "woman should have no worse 
stigma than man for sexual sins," they would certainly be gratified 
here, for the disgrace is, at least, as great to one sex as the other. 
Indeed, I think the general judgment for marital unfaithfulness is 
more severe on a man than a woman. The young Americans bring 
their mistresses to the baile with the same indifference the Mexicans 
do their sweethearts. These " girls " are scrupulously polite, and so 
unlike the same class in the States, that it can only be accounted for 
by the fact that they see no disgrace whatever in their mode of life, 
and feel no sort of social degradation. 

A visitor with any reverence in his composition scarcely knows 
whether to smile or sigh at that " faith without knowledge," which 
shows in all their customs, and most of all in their names. Jesus, 
Maria, Mariano and Jose (Joseph) are favorites, the second and 
third common to both sexes. A prominent citizen is Don Jesus 
Vigil. His parents probably intended him for a "watchful Chris- 
tian." Fortunately for sensitive American ears, it is pronounced 
Haysoos Veheel. Irreverent as it may appear in me to write it, there 
is a well-known citizen whose name is Jesus A, Christ de Vaca (Hay- 
soos Antonio Kreest day Bvahca). 

Sometimes among the gentejina, the marriage contract specifies that 
the sons take both names (united by " and "), from some principle 
of law as to entailed estates. Thus Don Jose Vigil y Alarid is the 



224 WESTERN WILDS. 

son of a lady of the Alarid family married to Scnor Vigil, In like 
manner my young friends insisted that my rough Saxon patronymic 
did not suit the soft Castilian, and I became Senor Juan de Bidello. 
All Spanish -Americans are brilliant in nomenclature. The full name 
of a cowherd sounds like the title of a grandee. Americans who set- 
tle in the country very often translate their own names, or give them a 
Castilian termination. By such process Mr. Meadows becomes Senor 
Las Vegas; John Boggs, Senor Juan de Palos; and Jim Gibbons 
flowers out as Don Santiago de Gibbonoise. An Irishman from Den- 
ver settled near El Paso, married a wealthy Mexican lady, and lives in 
style; his original name, Tim Murphy, is long since forgotten, and 
he signs his bank checks as Timotheus Murfando. 

Twelve days I wandered about Santa Fe, finding much to interest, 
and picking up a smattering of the language to serve me in my trav- 
els westward. Daily I studied the routes through Arizona, and each 
day brought fresh tales of disaster. First came a Mexican from El 
Paso, whose two companions were killed by Indians on the edge of 
the Jornada del Muerto ; and next a ranchcro from the south-western 
border, whose Mexican herders were killed, and all his stock run off 
by the Mescalero Apaches. And while he w^as yet speaking came 
another messenger, and said that nine prospectors, who left by the 
northern route, went too far south, fell into an ambuscade, and "their 
scalps now ornament the lodges of Col Iyer's pets." Simultaneously 
a lieutenant and sergeant of cavalry were ambuscaded in the Alamosa 
and their animals "ruched" with arrows. Drawing their revolvers, 
they dashed bravely on, firing right and left, knowing that to be their 
only chance for life, and, by rare good fortune, got through and into 
the open plain. Sorely wounded, and compelled to abandon their 
exhausted animals, only the darkness of night prevented their 
capture. 

We next receive Arizona papers with the information that the east- 
ern coach was attacked near Tucson, and the driver and messenger 
killed; and that the western coach was robbed beyond Fort Yuma 
by Mexican ladrones, and the station-keeper and one messenger mur- 
dered. The white population of Arizona was 9,600, and they then 
averaged a loss of twenty per month by Apaches and Mexicans — 
about half the ordinary mortality of an army. All things considered, 
I concluded to try the northern route. A soldier w^as about to start 
for Fort Wingate with a wagon-load of provisions ; and General My- 
ers, quartermaster, kindly gave me passage with him. From Win- 
gate I thought to catch some kind of an expedition to Prescott. 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 



225 



There were stretches of fifty miles on that line without grass or wa- 
ter, but no hostile Indians, which suited me admirably. By waiting 
a month I could have gone to the Little Colorado with a party of 
engineers; but life is too short to stay a whole mouth in Santa Fe. 
At noon of May 22d I took my seat on an army wagon, and rolled 




"DRAWING THKIK KEVOLVERS, THEY DASHED BRAVELY ON." 

out of the New Mexican capital. Crossing the Rio de Santa Fe, we 
left the valley and struck across the mesa in a south-west direction, the 
city behind us appearing to sink slowly into the earth. Looking 
back upon it, this noted town appeared to my eye exactly like a col- 
lection of old brick yards. It is my invariable custom to say some- 
thing good of a town on departing, if I can possibly think of a good 
thing to say, but Santa Fe " raises me out." It was an important 
15 



226 WESTERN WILDS. 

place in the old days of freighting from the Missouri border, because 
it was on the first level and fertile })iece of ground tlie trains could 
reach after getting through the mountain passes. But it can never be 
a railroad center, though it may some day have a branch road. 

My only companion from Santa Fe to Fort Wingatc was Frank 
Hamilton, of the Eighth United States Cavalry, stationed at that post. 
Frank had been detailed to come to Santa Fe on military business, 
and had improved the occasion by getting gloriously drunk, in which 
condition he remained most of the time he was there, and w'as barely 
sober enough to know the road. His first move was down a three- 
foot bank into the Santa Fe. I jumped into the water to avoid a fall 
on the rocks, which stuck up siiarply on the other side; but the 
wagon careened half over, lodged and righted again, when the mules 
took a forward surge, so I got off with nothing worse than a drench- 
ing. Hamilton, being drunk, and limber as a rag, of course escaped 
injury. For warmth and dryness' sake I w^alked most of the 
afternoon. 

We turn south-west, rising by successive " benches " to a vast bar- 
ren table-land. We pass in the afternoon one Mexican hamlet, look- 
ing like a collection of half a dozen " green " brick-yards — dry, hard, 
dusty and desolate. Crossing the high mesa, level as the sea, we ap- 
proach an irregular line of rocks, rising like turrets ten or twenty feet 
above the plain, which we find to be a sort of a natural battlement 
along the edge of the " big hill." Reaching the cliff we see, at an 
angle of forty-five degrees below us, in a narrow valley, the town of 
La Bajada. Down the face of this hill the road winds in a series of 
zigzags, bounded in the worst places by rocky walls, descending fif- 
teen hundred feet in three-quarters of a mile. La Bajada is the stere- 
otyped New Mexican town — a collection of mud-huts, among which 
one or two whitewashed domos indicate the residences of persons of 
the <jcnte jina (hen-ia fee-nah), or, as they themselves style it, of the 
sangre azid (blue blood). 

The town has a hotel, consisting of a quadrangle of rooms around 
an open square, which contains some flowers, two shade-trees, benches, 
and wash-stands. The rooms have floors of wood, instead of dirt; the 
walls are w^hitewashed ; two mirrors and a buffalo-skin lounge adorn 
the sitting-room, and generally the place ranks high. Two bright- 
eyed, graceful, copper-colored senoritas bring me a supper of coffee, 
side meat, eggs and tordllas cle mah, and entertain me with a vo- 
luminous account, in musical Spanish, of their personal recollections 
of the place. I have learned enougli of the language to be able to 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 227 

say "ah," "yes," and "no" at nearly the right place, and that is the 
most required to keep a Mexican woman social. My companion, jolly 
drunk, was barely able to get his team into the coival, when he fell 
back into the wagon asleep, and, as he was the cook of our outfit, I 
was obliged to stay over night at the hotel. Except the two houses 
mentioned, the whole town is of a uniform dull clay color, walls of 
of mud, fences of mud, door and window-casings of mud-colored 
wood, roofs of slightly sloping poles, covered with earth two or three 
feet thick, floors of native earth beaten hard, and nowhere a patch of 
grass to relieve the wearied eye. It is one of the few Mexican towns 
not named after some saint; La Bajada means "The Descent," the 
words being pronounced together, Lavvahadda. 

Thence, in the cool of the morning, we journey at a sobre 2)ctsso gait of 
two miles an hour, down the valley towards the Rio Grande. The first 
point of interest is the Pueblo of Santo Domingo, where I visit for an 
hour. The houses are all in a bunch ; a few have doors, but most are 
still entered from the roof, there being a ladder or rude stairway at 
the corner. All the men were in the public field at work, and the 
women and children appeared strangely quiet and undemonstrative. 
The only man I met accompanied me three miles on the road. He 
gave his name as Antonio Gomez, and talked fluently of their mode 
of life and system of government. We were more social, indeed, than 
could have been expected of men with but a few hundred words in 
common ; but words are like dollars — a few go a long ways when one 
is pinched. But my main question : " How many years since your 
people first came here?" he answered, with a laugh: " Quien sabef 
Quisas doce quinientos /'' (Who knows? Perhaps a dozen times five 
hundred !) They generally reckon by tens ; are seldom able to count 
high numbers, and any tiling above two or three hundred is " infinity," 
vaguely expressed by quinientos. 

Three miles brought us down into a beautiful vega, containing some 
two miles square of rich, natural meadow, on which the Pueblos had 
several hundred head of horses and mules. My comj^anion pointed 
out with some pride his own manada of sixty mules and mares, at- 
tended by his three boys, and urged me to stop at his rancheria and 
take dinner. But appearances were not inviting, so I plead no tiempo, 
and hurried on after the team, Antonio leaving me with a friendly 
grasp, and, ^'Addio, Senor, pasa bucnas dies.'' (May you pass good 
days.) A little farther on we drove within a quarter of a mile of the 
river, where some twenty Pueblos were hauling a rude seine. They 
held up some good-sized fish, shouting the price, but, on my de- 



228 WESTERN WILDS. 

dining, waved me off with, ^' Buena j ornada, ^efior!^^ (A good jour- 
ney > sir.) 

\ye pass the little pueblo of San Felipe, and from this vcga rise to 
another desert — for ten miles the same eye-wearying panorama of dry 
sand, dark-gray rock, and treeless, grassless mesa, the whole un- 
inhabited. About 3 P. M. we descend to another oasis of two or 
three square miles, where we spend the night at the town of Al- 
godones. All that I had previously seen of unsightly Mexican towns 
is eclipsed by this straggling row of unburnt brick-kilns — walls, 
fences, houses, fields and corrals of dried mud. My companion had 
fortunately got sober enough to cook our supper, while I hunted for 
some additions to our fare, which consisted of army bread, pork, 
coffee and potatoes. I found three luxuries for sale: vino de pais (na- 
tive wine), eggs and goat's milk. My soldier took the milk by 
choice, but I confined myself to the eggs and wine, with the regular 
fare. After supper I ran about town till I found one intelligent cit- 
izen, who gave me much information about the country, in a mixture 
of French and Spanish. " When will the thirty-fifth parallel road be 
built?" and "Will New Mexico be admitted soon as a State?" were 
the questions on which he earnestly desired information. He set forth 
the arguments for a State government at great length. The strongest, 
in his estimation, seemed to be, " The rich (los ricos) are all in favor 
of it." As they must pay the expense, he thought they should have 
whatever they wanted. 

We were off at six next morning, and a few miles from Algodones 
entered the great oasis of Albuquerque, the largest body of good 
land in Xew Mexico. For nearly a hundred miles, with slight 
breaks, extends the fertile valley of the Rio Grande, varying from two 
to eight miles wide. In this portion an acecquia, taken out of the 
river above, runs along the bluffs, from which side-ditches, one every 
furlong or oftener, convey the water among the fields. There we see 
ridges of dirt tlirown up, dividing the field into little squares of some 
five rods each, to hold the water. The labor of irrigating seems much 
greater than in Utah. In comparison with the sterile mesas we have 
crossed, this fertile strip seems a very Eden, Wheat, wdiich at Santa 
Fe was just high enough to give a faint tinge of green, is here a foot 
high, rank and thrifty. We are twenty-two hundred feet lower than 
that city, and in a climate at least ten degrees warmer. Not more than 
one-tenth of the whole area of New Mexico is fit for cultivation. Even 
of that so fit, not more than half lies in a position to be irrigated, with 
the ])resent system. But that which is fertile is exceedingly so. 



JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. 229 

At least five-sixths of the population of New Mexico lives in the 
Rio Grande Valley, or along its immediate tributaries; there are all 
the important towns, while one may cross the country from east to 
west, and travel for days without sight of a dwelling or green spot. 
In most towns one sees no shade trees, no rills of sparkling water 
coursing the streets as in Utah or Colorado ; even the Rio Grande is 
often exhausted in dry weather, and the many irrigating ditches it 
supplies leave its bed dry for miles. Albuquerque appears in the 
distance like a collection of brick-yards unburnt; but a nearer view 
shows many vineyards and gardens. Among the little farms near the 
city, the inhabitants are repairing their fences, as usual just before 
the summer drought. A box-frame, some two feet square and a foot 
deep, with no bottom, is placed upon the ground and filled with tough 
mud mingled with a little grass ; then, the frame being lifted, leaves a 
section of the wall in place to be hardened and whitened (a little) by 
the sun. Successive blocks are stacked on this, till the mud wall is 
four or five feet high. Such are the only fences one can see for days 
of travel along the Rio Grande. 

Reaching Albuquerque my soldier decided that he had enough 
money left for a two days' spree ; we would therefore remain till 
Sunday morning. So I rested, wrote, and rambled in the queer, flat, 
old city, calling also on the pncZyr, who is usually the most intelligent 
man in a Mexican town. All the acting padres are now French or 
Irish ; the native Mexican priests have been 7-etired, whether on half- 
pay or not I did not learn. The pac?re gave me many facts: that the 
oasis of Albuquerque was some eighty miles long, and averaged four 
miles wide, and that it was now two hundred and fifty years since the 
Spanish Duke of Albuquerque encamped on this spot, though the city 
is not so old. His name in full was Don Alphonso Herrera Ponto 
Delgado de Albuquerque. I asked the padre "what was his front 
name," but he did not seem to know. His descendants now belong to 
the gente jina, that is to say, the first families before mentioned — peo- 
ple who have the sangre azul in their veins. The city is some two 
hundred years old, contains about 2,000 people, and boasts of the 
finest church in New Mexico — a stately pile of adobes, Avith two lofty 
and whitewashed towers. The people generally are poor, pious, and 
contented. A palacio of dried mud, a meal of corn and phnicnto, 
and a slip of corn-shuck filled with tobacco and rolled into a cigar- 
ette, is the height of a "Greaser's" ambition. 



^'i^x \v^: 



CHAPTER XV. 

TOLTECCAN. 

Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca was the first European who 
stood upon the soil of New Mexico. A survivor of the unfortu- 
nate Pamphilo de Narvaez's expedition, he wandered for ten years 

among the aborigines between the 
Mississippi and Gulf of California ; 
reached the Spanish settlements in 
Mexico, and lived to write a book 
as full of marvels as Swift's Gulli- 
ver. The miracles, supernatural 
cures, and other nonsense in the 
work, have caused many to reject 
it entire; but as it is proved by 
other testimony that he went into 
the wilderness at one time and 
came out of it at another, and as 
his descriptions of places are as 
correct as could be written to- 
dav, we are justified in regarding the possible part of it as true. 
The private journal of Vaca begins on the 4th of September, 
1527, when the few survivors of the Narvaez expedition were 
making boats to go to Mexico. All these boats were lost except 
that of Vaca, which was wrecked upon the coast of Texas. With 
some fifteen others he was captured by the Indians ; and of this 
number but three reached Mexico with him — Dorantes and Castillo, 
Spaniards, and a Barbary negro named Estevanico. Sometimes 
slaves, sometimes peddlers, and again treated as guests and acting 
as physicians, they got as far north as the Canadian River. Then 
they turned westward, traversed what Vaca called the "cow country/' 
and came to a desert. Crossing this with much suffering, they 
visited in turn nearly all the strange tribes of New Mexico, and 
at last reached the vicinity of the Gulf of California. There they 
came upon the force commanded by Diego de Alcaraz, who was 
exploring the country under orders of the Viceroy of New Spain 

(230) 




I'UEBI^O MAIDEN. 



TOLTECCAN. 231 

(Mexico). Thence they went to the City of Mexico, being every- 
where received with public demonstrations, and ending their jour- 
ney "on the day before the vespers of Saint James," in 1536. Vaca 
afterwards married a wealthy Spanish lady, and attained to consid- 
erable rank. In Pefia Blanca, New Mexico, lives one Don Tomas 
Cabeza de Vaca (who will probably be Governor if the Territory 
soon becomes a State), who is the tenth in direct descent from 
Alvar Nunez, 

The next expedition into New Mexico was by Don Francisco Vas- 
quez Coronado, in command of some seven hundred cavaliers, in the 
years 1540-'46, in search of the "Seven Cities of Cibola." At that 
time all this region was called by the Spaniards Cibola. This word 
in the Spanish lexicons is translated "A quadruped called the Mexican 
bull;" but in Mexico it means the buffalo. The cities Coronado 
went to find were said to be situated in a vast oval valley, the most 
fertile on earth, and walled in by mountains full of rich mines; they 
were paved with gold and silver, the houses lighted with precious 
stones, and the richest metals were in common use for domestic 
utensils. In short, it was the biggest hind of a bonanza. But they 
never found the cities, though they hunted six or seven years, and, by 
the right of first occupation, added to the Spanish possessions a region 
twelve times the size of Ohio. All this but twenty years after the 
conquest of Cortez, and two hundred and fifty years before the found- 
ing of Cincinnati. 

Coronado returned to the city of Mexico in disappointment and 
disgrace ; but with him was a gentleman and scholar named Castaneda, 
who wrote a very fascinating account of the trip, and incited others to 
turn explorers. He described most of the important mountains, rivers 
and tribes of Arizona, New Mexico and North-western Texas ; and 
thirty years after him, two friars led in a small missionary company, 
of whom all were killed by the Indians. Next came Antonio de Es- 
pejo, who is credited with having founded Santa Fe in 1580; and 
after him Don Juan de Onati, who made the first permanent settle- 
ments, about 1591. Otlier colonists followed fast, but seventy years 
afterwards the Pueblos, native Indians, rebelled and drove out or 
massacred the Spaniards. Governor Otermin and General Vargas 
soon came back with a Spanish army, and by a bloody war thoroughly 
subjugated the Pueblos. The more warlike fled to valleys in the 
western mountains; the remainder settled into docile subjects of 
Spain, and in time became devoted Catholics. 

For a hundred years after the conquest miscegenation went on 



232 WESTERN WILDS. 

rapidly, producing the present Mexican race ; then, by the operation 
of some mysterious law it ceased, and the people now appear fixed in 
permanent types. It is as rare for one of the upper classes to marry 
among the common people as for white and colored to marry in the 
States. In nearly all lands where there are mixed bloods, the ruling 
caste is the whitest. In the Turkish and the Mexican armies the offi- 
cers are quite fair ; the common soldiers dark as Indians. The gente 
jina of New Mexico are comparatively mild brunettes ; but the 
"greasers" are at least mulatto color. In the States we say "as dark 
as a Spaniard ; " in Mexico they say " as fair as a Spaniard." We 
take our idea from the mixed races; they take theirs from the pure 
Castilians they see, who are fair as Scotchmen. Their Creole descend- 
ants in Mexico and the South-west are almost equally fair, but often 
delicate in physique and devoid of energy. I have spoken of their 
long names. When one inherits several estates his title often includes 
the names of all of them ; and it is reported that the " shoddy " some- 
times insist on being addressed by the full title. Hence the follow- 
ing (reported) sad occurrence : A young nobleman, Lopez y Interlo- 
pez de las Casas Filatas y Aman de Cor, was walking with his in- 
tended, Scnorita Inez Pranalada, along the Rio Grande, her mother 
acting as duenna. While he was at a distance Inez fell into the 
river, and the mother screamed, " Oh, Sefior Lopez y Interlopez de 
las Casas Filatas" — but by this time the fair Inez had sunk to rise no 
more. 

In New Mexico there are about half a dozen castes, the regular 
dark Mexicans outnumbering all others. The population is classified 
thus : 

Americans ........ 6,000 

Mexicans 8G,000 

Citizen Indians (Pueblos) ...... 10,000 

Wild Indians (perhaps) 20,000 

Total, 122,000 

The common people are incredibly poor. If a late jjco??, now free, 
has a dollar, he neither labors nor thinks till it is gone. Twenty-five 
cents of it buys flour, twenty-five goes for dulccs for the seilora, 
another twenty-five pays for absolution, and the rest buys a lottery 
ticket. No matter if his ticket draw a blank a hundred times in 
succession : " maybe some time I win," is to him sufficient answer. A 
few families own all the wealth of the country. Even they have their 
wealth mostly in flocks and herds, and immense as it is, it brings them 
but few of the luxuries of life. If this Territory is admitted now as 



TOLTECCAN. 233 

a State, it ought to be called the State of Pohritta (" Little Poverty.") 
Each of these wealthy families has from a hundred to two thousand 
dependents, some of whom were their peons before that system Avas 
abolished, and continue to yield obedience by nature and habit. If a 
State, this would be a most complete " rotten borough " — the Morst 
"carpet-bag" State in the Union. Fifteen families with ease would 
rule it — the Chaves, Gallegos, Delgados, Senas, Garcias, Pereas, 
Oteros, Quintanas, and a few others. These families have three- 
fourths of the wealth of the Territory, and all the influence. Tlie 
poor Mexicans do any thing they are told; in fact don't know how to 
do otherwise than as they are told. These families, in combination 
with half a dozen priests, and a dozen or more Americans, would di- 
vide the home offices between them, and send whomsoever they 
pleased to Congress. It is usually the aim of speculative Americans 
to " stand in " with one of the noble families. But many of our 
people have disdained such sycophancy, and yet won for themselves 
an honorable place in New Mexican annals. Chief among these was 
the noted Kit Carson, scout, trapper, and hunter ; then guide to Fre- 
mont, and afterwards Federal colonel, and last of all Indian Agent for 
the Utes, in which capacity he died at his home in Taos. 

The Pueblos are evidently a decaying race. Anciently they con- 
sisted of four nations: the Piros, Teguas, Queres and Tagnos. Ac- 
cording to their own account they number only one-tenth what they 
did before the conquest. A regular pueblo (" village ") consists of a large 
square, with open court in the center; the stories rise in terraces, each 
giving back a few feet from the one below. There are no doors on the 
outside, the entrance on the roof being reached by a ladder. But in 
the long peace they are slowly adopting the style of dwelling used by 
the Mexicans. They are stout and muscular, with rather pleasant 
countenances; speak Spanish fluently, but learn English with diffi- 
culty, and never teach others their language. They dress in woolen 
of their own manufacture, and are very industrious, chaste, and honest. 

Who are they? is the puzzling question. They did not learn their 
civilization from the Spaniards, that is certain; but were found by the 
latter almost as far advanced as to-day. Castaneda says the Pueblos 
came with a nation from the north-west, and their own tradition is 
that they are Montezumas Indians. Against this, however, 
Baron Humboldt contended that the Aztec language differed essen- 
tially from that of the Pueblos, and Castaneda further says that 
they were unknown to the people of Mexico until Cabeza de Yaca 
and his companions brought account of them. Before 1871, they 



234 



WESTERN WILDS. 



Avere not considered citizens; then the question was raised, and the 
Supreme Court pronounced them legal voters. They still dress in the 
ancient costume, which is neither Indian nor Spanish, but a sort of 
mixture, with pantaloons somewhat in the Turkish style, and when in 




KiT CAll ON. 



full dress with a profusion of red and yellow. They inhabit twenty- 
six villages, principally in the valley of the Rio Grande, the most im- 
portant of which is San Juan, thirty miles north-west of Santa Fe. 
They live totally distinct from the surrounding Mexicans, each village 
having its own government, and no bond of union between them; but 
all live in the greatest harmony with their neighbors. Each village 



TOLTECCAN. 



235 




PUEBLO CACIQUE. 



has a governor, a cacique or justice, a fiscal or constable, and a "coun- 
cil of wise men." Besides these civil officers there is also a war cap- 
tain, who attends to military affairs. 

The territorial government will average with that of other Terri- 
tories. "Since the Occupation," meaning since the Americans took 
possession, is a phrase in constant use like "Since the war" in tlie 
South. After the conquest in 1590-'95 comes a list of forty-six Span- 
ish and Mexican captain-generals 
who governed the country, end- 
ing with General Manuel Armijo 
in 1846, who gathered a large 
army to meet the Americans, 
marched out to the pass command- 
ing the country, and then marched 
back again, abandoning the prov- 
ince without firing a shot. The 
Americans took possession, set up 
a feeble government and passed /T 
on ; the Mexicans rose, treacher- 
ously massacred the officials and 
several other Americans, and were 
again subdued. They are now apparently as good " Yankees " as any 
of us. 

They are very tenacious of all their old customs in the administra- 
tion of law. They stipulated for this at the American occupation, 
and General Kearney, by proclamation, continued all their judicial 
officers with the same code; and as the civil or canon law was in force 
in all Spanish America, it is the common law of Xew Mexico to-day. 
Under it the power of parents is practically almost without limits — 
no matter what age their offspring may be. A son who lives with his 
mother is subject to her orders always, and the alcalde in rural dis- 
tricts is occasionally called upon by a woman whose " boy " of twentv- 
five or thirty has rebelled. In such cases the alcalde goes with his 
constable, arrests the " boy," puts a riata into the hands of the mother 
and bids her lay on until the youth roars for mercy. Sometimes a 
senorita living with an American is punished severely by her mother 
for some slight to her " man ; " and though he protest, the mother 
asserts her right. 

Their lack of enterprise produces ludicrous results. I saw but one 
Mexican wagon in Santa Fe, and that had broken down. Every 
thing is transported on the backs of burros, the native breed of asses. 



236 WESTERN WILDS. 

Occasionally one loaded thus with wood loses his balance or trips and 
goes over; then he can not rise till unloaded. One morning I noticed 
a miserable little burro, no bigger than a good-sized ram, staggering 
under an entire bedstead, piled up and strapped together on his back; 
and another with an immense trunk strapped "cut-angular" from his 
left hip to his right shoulder. They are the wealth of the poorer 
class, and when the household donkey dies a Mexican family goes into 
bankruptcy. 

With these notes, set down in a month's travel, and from observa- 
tion and conversation with all classes, I resume my j)ersonal experi- 
ences : 

On the 26th, we left Albuquerque, just as the Sunday amusements 
began. They usually have splendid religious services in the morning, a 
dog-tussle about noon, and a cock-fight later in the day. In the evening, 
if reflective, the "Greaser" smokes cigarettes and meditates; if senti- 
mental, he goes courting. My soldier was sober again, by chance, and 
eager to start, while I felt refreshed and ready for the desert. 

The "June rise" of the Rio Grande {El Rio they call it there — 
"The River") had come on a week or two earlier than common, and 
a vast bayou covered two-thirds of the "bottom" between the city 
and the main channel. In this we encountered dangerous whirls and 
"chuck-holes," the wagon often plunging in up to the bed, and two 
or three times the little lead mules were obliged to swim a rod or so. 
When we reached the narrow strip of high ground near the river, the 
whole population of the string-town opposite were collected on the 
bank, on their way to the cathedral and other Sabbath amusements. 
Half a dozen families were laboring across in their own skiffs, while 
the main ferry flat was loaded to the guards. The w'omen, in gay 
robes and black rebosas, were laughing and singing, while the men 
screamed, swore and shouted directions all at once to the four boat- 
men, and the flat drifted in circles down the swift current. Fortu- 
nately, the actual channel is not more than four hundred yards wide, 
and the flat only descended half a mile in making the passage. A 
boat load of Mexicans on the way to church can make more noise 
tlian two circus shows. Having passed the main current, the ferry- 
men jumped overboard, and, wading up to their armpits, with tow 
ropes, hauled the flat to shore. This trifling incident is a beautiful 
illustration of the Mexican style of doing every thing. 

Once landed, the male passengers took to the bayou without a 
thought for their summer pantaloons; but the women, being gayly 
dressed for church, dropped upon the grass, snatched ofi^ their under 



TOLTECCAK 237 

clothing, raised their dresses "about so high," and waded to town 
with the utmost nonchalance, laughing, chattering, and singing hymns 
to the Virgin! Here and there was seen a youth of unusual filial 
piety, carrying his mother astride his shoulders; but most of the 
women encountered the difficulties of the way with a hardihood fully 
equal to that of the men. 

Two hours of Mexican awkwardness set us across, and we left the 
west bank for the sand hills just as the great bell of the adobe ca- 
thedral was calling these copper-colored Christians to morning mass. 
The western hills looked bad enough from the town, and more than 
kept their promise. One mile across the valley brought us to the first 
mesa, not more than fifty feet above the river, and covered for four or 
five miles with a tolerable growth of greasewood, cactus and bunch- 
grass, indicating some fertility. Then we entered upon another grad- 
ual ascent for two miles, which brought us fairly upon the desert. 
The awful, the unutterable desert ! Miles on miles of blistering sand 
or rock glowing in the midday heat. 

At 2 P. M. we halted for a brief rest, ungeared the mules, and 
crawled under the "wagon for shade. North, south and west we saw 
only desolation ; eastward a faint line of green marked the course of 
the Rio Grande. Oh, to be on its green banks once more. To us it 
appeared " more to be desired than Abana and Pharpar," or all the 
rivers of Judea and Damascus. The M^ater in our canteens was ex- 
hausted before noon, and the soldier, just recovering from a long 
debauch, was almost frantic with thirst. He tried the usual resource: 
to scrape a bacon rind and chew it; and allow me to add, it is a 
splendid substance with which to mitigate thirst. Soldiers tell rae 
they have gone two days without water, and avoided any serious suf- 
fering by this simple expedient. A piece of silver, or small splinter 
of mountain pine, held in the mouth and rolled about with the 
tongue, is often used for the same purpose. 

In an hour the evening wind rose, and we moved on. At 5 P. M., 
we reached a down grade, and saw on the western horizon a strag- 
gling line of dwarf pines, indicating the course of the Puerco. Our 
mules showed new life, gave a grateful whinny, and broke into a trot. 
Fortunately we found some water still in the channel, though fast 
sinking. Three weeks ago the Rio Puerco ("Hog River") was a tor- 
rent; one week more, and it will be a rcsaca ("dry channel"). It 
runs but two months in the year; at other times, travelers must hunt 
along the dry bed till they find a brackish pool, or dig in the lowest 
depressions. The water looked exactly like dirty milk, and its tem- 



238 WESTERN WILDS. 

perature was about 70°; but it was grateful enough to us. The driver 
drank two quart cups of it in ten minutes, and the poor animals 
crowded down the only accessible place, and shoved each other into 
the stream in their eagerness to get at the dirty fluid. Fortunately 
the dirt which gives it color is so fine that one can not feel it grit in 
his teeth, and aside from the earthy taste, the water is not disagree- 
able. 

The valley of the Puerco, some two miles wide, is very fertile, and 
the INIexicans had attempted to settle it ; but no plan could be de- 
vised to secure enough water and their settlement was abandoned. 
We spread our blankets in one of their vacant houses, and slept 
sweetly till 2 A. M., then took to the road to pass the next desert 
before noon. All that was yesterday so drear has a fascinating beauty 
by moonlight. The turbid Puerco looks like a band of molten silver; 
the sand glitters with pearls, the red and yellow rocks are glorified in 
the brilliant light. The stream had fallen two feet during the night, 
from which the soldier inferred it would be dry in a day or two. 
Thence we rise again to another desert, and in ten miles reach the 
ancient border of the Navajoes (or Navahoes, if spelled as pro- 
nounced), a series of rugged gulches and narrow canons, bounded by 
perpendicular walls of yellow soapstone. They run from north to 
south, and form a break in the road something near a mile wide, 
evidently the bed of a long extinct river. Wash gravel and marine 
shells are heaped in fantastic piles by the wind. The deepest gulch 
is known as Dead Man's Canon, w^here are buried twenty whites mas- 
sacred many years ago by the Navajoes. 

We saw our first specimens of this tribe at Albuquerque: one chief 
and eleven warriors, who had been into the Comanche country on a 
fighting and stock-stealing expedition. They got no horses, but had 
three men wounded, and were making their way homeward with only 
such provisions as they could get in the Mexican settlements. The 
sole ranchero at the canon told us they had passed there on Sunday, 
having made the forty-four miles on foot in a little over one day. 
Our early start avoided the midday heat upon the desert, but the dry- 
ing air produced strange effects. My nose, lips, and wrists, which 
blistered yesterday, peeled to-day, and I started to grow a new cuticle 
on those members. My nose was coloring like a new meerschaum, 
forming a very striking feature of my countenance. How convenient 
if a man could sprout new members in place of the lost, as a lobster 
docs his claw, or a bee his sting. But if the evolution philosophy be 
sound, we only need to feel the want of such a faculty, and ardently 



TOLTECCAN. • 239 

desire it for several hundred generations, and it will spontaneously 
develop. Beautiful theory ! 

From Dead JMan's Canon we rise gradually for twelve miles, trav- 
erse a wide pass walled in by mountains red with iron-stain, and de- 
scend again to a vast baked plain of barren clay, hard as the sun's 
rays can cook it. On its western border appears a green oasis, 
bounded by yellow hills scantily clad with timber and bunch-grass; 
and on the baked plain beside the oasis stands the hamlet of El Rito 
("The Little Riv^r"). We had made our drive of twenty-six miles 
by noon. The "Little River" is little indeed; at its best one can 
jump across it; now it is all used for irrigation. The country is full 
of dry channels, many of which are located as rivers on the map; but 
in three-fourths of them one finds only piles of gravel and shifting 
sands. 

El Rito is a strange, old, isolated Mexican town, away out on the 
edge of the desert, twenty-five miles from the nearest neighbor; and 
yet it is a century old, and has doubtless contained the same fami- 
lies — perhaps forty in all — during all that time. No church, no 
school, no papers, no books, or very few, to introduce a new idea ; 
but family concerns, town concerns, the winter's rain and the spring 
rise ; the rare passage of a government train, and the rarer visit of 
the itinerating padre to baptize the children and confess and absolve 
the elders, make up their little world of incidents. The oasis is 
plowed with a sharpened log, well seasoned and hewn into the shape 
of an Irish spade, and the crops tended with hoe and rake ; while the 
goats, sheep and asses are pastured in the mountain hollows, and the 
hens live upon crickets and earth-worms. If the family bw^o does 
not die, if the goats do well, if the water is sufficient for enough of 
mais and chile Colorado, and the hens lay eggs enough to send off" by 
the weekly peddler, and procure a little tobacco and flowered calico, 
then Qiden quicre por masf (Who cares for more?) In this little 
community of degenerate Spaniards A's children have married B's 
children, and vice versa, and in the next generation double-cousins 
married double-cousins, for a hundred years, till the wine of 
life has run down to the very lees, and flows dull in sluggish veins 
for want of a vitalizing current of alien blood. Every person in the 
settlement is akin to most of the others. The same practice has had 
much to do with the degeneracy of the Pueblos, isolated as each of 
their settlements is. 

While Hamilton attended to his team, I walked about the town. 
The men and larger boys were at work in the public field, or tend- 



240 WESTERN WILDS. 

ing flocks among the hills ; the women asleep, or sitting on the dirt 
floor smoking cigarettes of corn-shuck and tobacco, and the whole 
juvenile population looked like a miserable batch of rags, sore eyes 
and sin. There was not a tree, a flower, or a spear of grass in the 
place. Those persons I spoke to were even too lazy to understand 
Spanish — as I spoke it, anyhow. They only grunted, " No sabe/' and, 
pointing to a rather superior adobe on the hill, remarked, '-Alii, un 
Americano." 

I found him an " American " indeed. His name was Ryan, and he 
was " from Tipper-ra-r-ry, be dad ! " Years ago he drifted here, liked 
it, married a Mexican woman, had several Pueblo servants and a flock 
of sheep, and was general adviser, advocate and scribe for the settle- 
ment. A delegation of Pueblos from the next town were at his house 
to complain of the Navajoes, who had been stealing their stock. He 
took me to the public fonda, where I got a good supper of goat's 
milk, tortillas and eggs, and a clean room, and spent the evening quite 
pleasantly. The nights there are delightful ; a little too cool towards 
morning, perhaps, for comfortable sleeping in the open air, but with 
abundant blankets we did well. The entire mountain range southwest 
is said to be a mass of minerals — coal, iron and copper. It is a region 
of curiosities. In the next valley south is the largest one of the aban- 
doned cities of — whom? Quien sabe, is the universal answer of Mexi- 
can and Indian. Most of the houses there are of sawed stone. Three 
miles ahead, and on our road, is the noted Pueblo de Laguna ("Town 
of the Lake"), probably the best built of all the Montezumas towns, 
and so called because in former times the Pueblos built a vast cause- 
way across the upper end of the valley, to retain the winter floods from 
the mountain for summer irrigation. Now the dam is broken down, 
the lake is dry, the cultivable land reduced to a few acres, and the 
pueblo slowly dying. 

Starting next morning at the first flush of daylight, and climbing a 
rocky trail for three miles, while the team made a circuit of seven, I 
gained two hours for a visit to this place. The sun was just rising as 
I entered the pueblo, and the inhabitants were mostly on the house- 
tops preparing their implements for the day's work. The town is 
situated upon the east end of an oval rock or mole, some two miles 
long, and rising gradually at each end to a height of a hundred feet 
above the bordering plain. The top is comparatively level, and the 
sides fall ofl" in a succession of abrupt benches, each a yard or so in 
width and height, rendering the whole place a splendid natural fortifi- 
cation. On these rocks the Pueblos first built for protection, and are 



TOLTECCAN. 241 

slow to change, though in the present lengthy peace some of them are 
beginning to build out on the farm. The cacique was a man of con^ 
siderable intelligence, spoke Spanish fluently, and gave me informa- 
tion with unusual courtesy. 

Most of the houses have a second story, not more than half or one- 
third as extensive as the lower one; and some few have a sort of tower 
or third story on top of the second. To this I several times signified 
a desire to ascend, but the cacique either did not understand me, or 
did not see fit to comply — probably the latter. Uneducated and semi- 
barbarous people are generally suspicious on all matters connected with 
their religion; and the accounts of missionaries, especially their first 
accounts, among such people, must be received Mith caution. It is 
nearly or quite impossible to make an Indian understand why any one 
should want him to give up his religion and adopt that of another ; he 
can not assign any probable motive for such solicitude, and invariably 
concludes there must be a swindle in it somewhere. He will readily 
acknowledge that the white man's religion is true and good — for the 
white man ; and, of course, the Indian's religion is equally true and 
good — for the Indian. 

When the Spanish Jesuits "converted" these people, some two cent- 
uries ago, they found it impossible to eradicate entirely the Montezu- 
mas faith, and so made a compromise. They gave them the Catholic 
religion, with its most impressive ceremonies, and permitted them to 
keep all their Montezumas customs which did not amount to actual 
idolatry. These consisted mostly of dances and feasts at stated times, 
which had more of a national than a religious significance. 

The houses here are solidly built of stone, cement, and adobes. The 
joists are large as ordinary house-sills in the States, which I judged to 
be for the Better support of the upper stories, as I noticed the walls of 
these in some instances not continuous wdth or resting on the walls 
below, but built directly across and over the rooms. The interior of 
the lower rooms was whitewashed and pleasantly neat, but in and 
about many of the houses was an unpleasant odor of green hides, which 
were hanging near, this being a general butchering time with them. 
Their windows are made of a material they call acquarra — a kind of 
mica found in the adjacent mountains, which is translucent but not 
transparent, and lights a room about as well as oiled paper. All the 
Pueblos of New Mexico and Arizona build in substantially the same 
manner; and all accounts, as well as the ruins so numerous in the 
country, indicate that the fashion has not changed for many centuries,. 

This pueblo has a population of seven hundred, who cultivate in com- 
16 



242 



WESTERN WILDS. 



rnon an oasis of some twelve square miles. Closely tended it produces 
amazingly. Wooden plows were running, breaking up the ground for 
late crops, and on the adjoining hills I saw large herds of sheep and 
goats attended by young Pueblos. 

Crossing this oasis we entered another broad canon, which we fol- 
lowed for some ten miles to the town of Cubero, somewhat better than 
the ordinary Mexican hamlet. It is built on a series of shelving 
rocks ; some of the dwellings are of stone, nearly all have stone floors, 
and the place seemed literally basking in the fierce rays of a New 
Mexican sun. There we found another party of Pueblos on a general 
spree. One able-bodied "buck" was staggering along the street, his 
wife after him and occasionally thwacking him on the head or back 
with the butt end of a heavy whip, while the whole Mexican population 
looked on laughing and cheering. 

Thence we crossed another small oasis, traversed another rugged 
canon, and came out upon another small green tract, and to McCarty's 
ranche, where we spent the night. McCarty is an Irishman, married 

to a Mexican woman, whom I 
found superior to most of her 
class. Beyond McCarty's is a 
fertile valley, through which runs 
the line of the Thirty-fifth Par- 
allel Road ; and beyond that a 
(Torg-e, not more than two hun- 
drcd yards wide, opens into an- 
other valley. The last three miles 
of the former valley is mostly 
marsh, and thither the officers 
from AVingate often ^o to hunt 
ducks. At the west end rise 
the springs which water the val- 
ley. They boil out from under the rock, half a dozen streams of cold, 
clear water. But a few rods from them the lava beds begin. As I 
walked over the plain, it looked as if the lava had just cooled. I 
could sec all the little waves and ripples in its surface, and near the 
springs it had evidently overflowed in successive layers, each an inch or 
so thick, the lower cooling a little before the one above it was de- 
posited. In places these layers had been broken directly across, 
folded and contorted, leaving singular gaps and fissures, the sides of 
which appeared coated in places with lime or sulphur, and in others 
by what looked like red sealing-wax turned to stone. Where con- 




" woman's kights.' 



TO LT EC CAN. 243 

torted or twisted, the lava rock presented precisely the same appear- 
ance as if one should lay down successive folds of tarred canvas till 
the pile was ten or twelve feet thick, and then roll the mass over and 
over and into long heaps. Some extensions of this twisted mass 
reached even to the edge of the springs, and I saw indications where 
it had overflowed into the pools; but most of the way across the valley 
one could trace the division between the lava and the original rock 
base on to which it had flowed as easily as with a daub of mud thrown 
upon the floor of a house. 

By a rise of perhaps ten feet we entered upon this mala pais, and 
soon came to where the lava was not in waves, but seemed to have 
cooled in a mass, presenting a granulated appearance, much like cool- 
ing sugar ; and a little farther we found it light and frothy looking, as 
if a hot, foaming current had cooled to stone, porous and spongy, like 
pumice-stone. A mile westward brought us out into the broader val- 
ley, and, looking backward, it seemed to me that the lava flow had 
been choked in the narrow pass about the time the supply was ex- 
hausted. Five miles over the level land brought ns to another de- 
scent, leading to another oval plain ; and, running in a ser- 
pentine course across it, I saw a shining line which I judged to be 
water — the irregular course of some mountain stream. But it soon 
appeared too dazzlingly bright, and we found it only a narrow, dry 
gully, bottom and sides crusted with salt and alkali, painful to the 
eye. A little water runs there in winter — just enough to bring down 
the alkali from the mountains. 

From the plain of the mala I'tnis we descend a little into Red Val- 
ley, about Agua Azul. It is walled in by fearfully abrupt mountains 
of black and red stone in an irregular circle, and is about five miles by 
three, containing at least eight sections of land of the utmost fertilitv. 
Near the bordering mountains the soil is red, giving name to the valley 
and the central butle, but lower down it is dark. Running water was 
found only at the south-west corner of the valley, and there M. 
Provencher first began to cultivate the soil, when he established the 
ranche four years before. The yield from this soil of volcanic origin 
was astonishing ; wheat produced thirty-six bushels per acre ; corn 
thirty-eight fancgas (a fanega is 136 pounds), and oats grew to the 
height of a man's head, yielding bounteously. But only one crop w\as 
raised ; then the dry season, which lasted for three years in western 
New Mexico, set in ; the water failed, and it is a question whether the 
place can ever be utilized. Give but a stream of pure water, and this 



244 WESTERN WILDS. 

little basin would Moom like a garden, supporting a thousand people 
iu affluence. 

About 3 o'clock n^xt morning we were awakened by a terrible 
racket and barking of dogs, just in time to see that our mules had 
broken corral, and were lighting out towards Wingatc with a speed 
which showed there was no place like home to them. Tlie soldier 
went in pursuit, and I visited the Red Butte and the old crater. The 
butte is nearly two miles long and a mile wide, rising evenly from the 
plain on every side, and so abruptly, by a series of " benches " or nar- 
row terraces, that it c*an only be ascended in two or three places, and 
the dimensions on top are only one-fourth less than at the bottom. 
M. Provcnchcr's theory is that the entire valley was the original 
crater, and, when" it had sloAvly died out, a smaller one formed at the 
center. The buite appears from the plain to be level on top ; it is, in 
fact, a mere shell — a little copy of the walled basin around it. From 
the narrow rim there is an abrupt fall towards the center, and inside 
it has the appearance of an old furnace, long since burnt out and 
abandoned. 

At midnight the soldier returned, hitched up at daylight, and, in a 
steaming state of military wrath, whipped his mules through the forty- 
three miles to Wingate by sundown. Twenty miles'east of that post 
we passed the dividing summit of the Rocky Mountains (or Sierra 
Madre ; both names are used indifferently there). We reach the west- 
ern slope through a long pass, in many respects resembling the South 
Pass of the old California trail. It is simply a high and sandy valley 
through the mountains, bounded on the north by almost perpendicular 
sandstone cliffs from five hundred to a thousand feet in height, and on 
the south by scantily-timbered hills which rise one ^ above anothe;^- to 
the highest mountain peak. In the pass and neighboring hills rain is 
frequent; twenty miles east or west of it none falls for three or four 
months at a time. The Atlantic and Pacific Railroad line is located 
through this ]iass, and the grade is so gentle that no difficulties are met 
with. For three hundred miles west of the Rio Grande nature seems 
to have provided a series of valleys especially for a railroad. The 
real trouble is that the country has so little in it worth building a 
railroad for. It is a splendid country to travel through ; a miserably 
poor one to stop in to make a " stake." 

On the evening of May 31st we drove into AYingate ; my soldier 
" reported," and in precisely twenty* minutes was a close prisoner in 
the guard-house — " held for trial." 

" Charge — Unwarranted disposition of stores placed in his care." 



TOLTECCAN. 245 

"Specification — In this, that the said Frank Hamilton, being intrusted 
with a team to transport one thousand pounds of potatoes from Santa 
Fe to this post, did unwarrantably dispose of three hundred pounds of 
the same on the way, etc., etc." 

He was found guilty of this, and more ; and during ray stay I was 
daily j^ained at sight of him " cleaning quarters," with a most uncom- 
fortable bracelet attachment to his ankle. 

Take him for all in all, he was the most unfortunate traveling com- 
panion I ever had. 

Moral — Don't go for a regular soldier ; or, if you do, don't trade 
government potatoes to Mexican women. 

Eight days I remained at Fort Wingate, and enjoyed every moment 
of the time. Having letters to Lieutenant S. W. Fountain, formerly 
of Pomeroy, Oiiio, he made me comfortable at his quarters, and a full 
hand at his mess. Captain A. B. Kauffman, commanding the post in 
the absence of Colonel Wm. Redwood Price ; Lieutenant D. P. Burn- 
ham, of Company "H," Fifteenth United States Infantry; and Dr. P. 
S. Yickery, Post Surgeon, were most courteous and pleasant officials. If 
I had to be exiled to a Far Western fort, I don't know any other com- 
mand I should prefer to go w^ith. Lieutenant H. R. Brinkerhoff, 
formerly of Union County, Ohio, also assisted me to much information 
as to the surrounding country ; and he and his estimable lady made my 
stay more like a renewal of home-life than one would have thought 
possible in this wilderness. 

Fort Wingate is nearly two hundred miles west of Santa Fe, di- 
rectly at the head of the Rio Puerco of the West. Along this stream 
a sloping valley can be followed down to the Colorado Chiquito 
(" Little,") and down that to the main Colorado — this post being thus 
on the " Pacific slope." Just south of the fort rises a rugged spur of 
the Sierra Madre, from which Bear Spring (or Ojo del Oso) sends out 
a cold, clear stream, sufficient to turn a mill-wheel. Two miles below 
the channel is dry; the loose red earth has drunk it all. With this 
stream the soldiers irrigrate a few acres of garden, producing most of 
the vegetables except potatoes. These can not be grown in the greater 
part of New Mexico ; the vines grow night and day, and the result is, 
in each hill a handful of dwarfed tubers, about the size of chestnuts. 
The latitude of Wingate is 35° 28'; the elevation 6,600 feet. Hence 
the summers are short and the nights cool. Corn will not silk ; wheat 
is generally cut off in the flower. Only the short-lived plants come to 
perfection. The records show that drought has been increasing for 



246 WESTERN WILDS. 

forty years. During my stay they enjoyed the only heavy rain for 
three years. 

Gypsum, salt and iron are abundant. A short distance west of the 
fort is a whoh; mountain of gypsum, so to speak — enough to bury an 
eastern county. Neither gold nor silver has been found in paying 
quantities. Precious stones of various kinds have been found near, 
particularly garnets and turquoises. Lieutenant H. R. BrinkerholF 
has a large collection of curious stones, picked up within a mile or 
two of the fort. Magnetic stones, the size of one's fist, can be had by 
the bushel. Some of them, when thrown loosely upon the ground, 
will roll over towards each other till they gather in a group. All the 
hills are covered with timber, and in the larger canons is abundance 
of pine fit for lumber. The mountains north and east present the ap- 
pearance of a succession of lofty cones, with here and there an oval 
hill. In many adjacent valleys are ruins of towns, and acecquias, 
where no water now runs at any season. Thirty miles south-west is 
a valley strewn with ruins, indicating a large settlement; it is now a 
desert. 

Wingate is the center of a region of curiosities. Among our visit- 
ors were some Zuni Indians from the great pueblo forty miles west. 
This is an enormous building of five terraced stories, containing eight 
hundred semi-civilized Indians. In this great human hive are carried 
on all the complicated affairs of a community life: government, manu- 
factures, art, and religious rites. They cultivate their little patches 
with great skill, producing abundance of corn, wheat, beans, and 
melons; their mercantile wealth is in sheep, goats, blankets, beads, and 
pottery. They are severely chaste, any departure from virtue being 
rigidly punished. They once had the art of writing, and still preserve 
one book ; but the last man who could read it died many years ago, 
and the priests regard it merely as a holy relic. It consists simply of 
a mass of finely dressed skins, bound on one side w'ith thongs; the 
leaves are thickly covered with characters and drawings in red, blue, 
and green — squares, diamonds, circles, serpents, eagles, plants, flying 
monsters and hideous human heads. One of their caciques says it is 
the history of their race, and shows that they have moved fourteen 
times, this being their fifteenth place of settlement. No Spanish priest 
has ever been permitted to enter their town; their religion appears to 
be a mixture of Spiritism and Sabianism. 

They are quite doniestic in their tastes, and fond of pets. Turkeys 
and tame eagles abound among them, living about the terraces of the 
pueblo, and even in their dwellings. They are keen traders, and have 



TOLTECCAK 247 

most perfect command of their features. The few I saw had a uni- 
formly sad, mild expression of the eye, but were quick in motion, 
well-made, and rather graceful. Unfortunately I was compelled, for 
company's sake, to take a route north of Zuni; and did not know its 
value to the explorer till I had passed westward. 

A hundred miles north of Wingate are the great ruins on the De 
Chaco River, supposed to be those of the "Seven Cities of Cibola" 
(See-vo-la) ; and north of those, on the San Juan in Colorado, the 
ruins, as supposed, of a fortified city of the Aztecs. One of the walls 
still stands, five hundred feet in length, with joinings as true and 
smooth as in any of our buildings. They were constructed of hard 
sandstone, and probably enclosed a city of several thousand inhabit- 
ants. Lieutenant McCormick, who explored all of them, thinks that 
at least a quarter, possibly half, of a million people devoted to agri- 
culture, once occupied the system of valleys opening upon the San 
Juan. They are gone long ago, and their places are occupied by the 
nomadic races: Utes, Navajoes and Apaches. The streams upon 
which they depended dried up, and cultivators necessarily yielded to 
hunters and shepherds; just as we find wandering Arabs encamped in 
the ruins of Baalbec and Palmyra, or barbarous nomads wandering 
over the once populous and fertile Babylonia. 

Here, too, we find the Navajoes at home; a most interesting race of 
barbarians, friendly in peace but savage in war. These are the first 
Indians I have met who have not the stereotyped "Indian face" — the 
face we have heard described so often, either overcast with a stern and 
melancholy gravity, or lively only with an uncertain mixture of 
cunning and ferocity. Their countenances are generally pleasing, even 
mild and benevolent. They have many young fellows whose faces 
show the born humorist. Wit, merriment, and practical jokes enliven 
all their gatherings, and, quite contrary to our ideas of Indian char- 
acter, they laugh loud and heartily at every thing amusing. They are 
quite inquisitive, too, and seem vastly pleased to either see or hear 
something new. Both men and women work, and are quite industri- 
ous until they have accumulated a fair share of property; then they 
seem content to take things easy. But here, as elsewdiere, only the 
worst class of Indians spend their time about the fort. Their women 
come and go in frequent groups, and may be found almost any pay- 
day in the adjacent woods; the result being that Dr. Vickery has a 
very extensive practice among the private soldiers. 

On the 6th of June, I set out for Fort Defiance, in company with 
Wm. Burgess, blacksmith for the Navajo Agency. The distance is 



248 WESTERN WILDS. ' 

forty-five miles, which we traversed in nine hours, finding water at 
but one point on the road, namely, Stinking Springs, sometimes po- 
litely called Sheep Springs. Our mules drank of it, under protest, 
and with many sniffs and contortions of the lips; and I tasted it from 
curiosity. It looks like a solution of blue-dye, and tastes like white- 
oak l)ark. To some it is a dangerous cathartic, but to most a power- 
ful astringent. Four miles from Wingate the valley makes a great IJ 
to the northward, and our road runs over the foot-hills for three 
miles ; then enters the valley again, which there narrows to a mere 
pass. A vast dyke of hard trap-rock extends across the country from 
north to south, standing out above the sandstone like an artificial 
stone battlement, and runs out from each side of the valley in abrupt 
causeways, leaving a rugged gap only a hundred yards wide. This 
opens into a broad and fertile valley, across which three miles bring 
us to the Rio Puerco of the West. The Puerco I crossed on the 26th 
of May runs south-east into the Rio Grande ; this one south-west into 
the Colorado Chiquito. We cross this Puerco, rise again into the 
northern foot-hills, and stop for noon in a pinon thicket. Next we 
reach the " Hay Stacks," a series of cones of yellow sandstone, some- 
thing over a hundred feet high, and fifty feet wide at the base, running 
up to a sharp point. They stand upon an almost level plain, but half 
a mile away is a rocky ledge containing a vast natural bridge, arched 
gateway, and all the forms of rocky tower and battlement which can 
be imagined. Eight miles farther brought us to Defiance, situated at 
the foot of a low rocky range, and almost in the mouth of Canon 
Benito. 

Approaching the post across a sandy plain we first come to a dry 
river-bed, with enough of stunted grass to show that water still runs 
there sometimes. Following up the stream we find first a pool of 
water, then a flock of slieep, then Indian farms, and occasionally a 
hogan, from which the Navajo squaws and children peep out at us 
with a sort of hungry curiosity. We cross a common field of a hun- 
dred acres or so, which the Navajoes have thrown up into beds two 
or three rods square for irrigation, and ride into the fort, which was 
my headquarters for the next ten days. 



CHAPTER XVi: 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 



It is bright noon in the gorge of Canon Benito. The red cliffs 
glow in the hot sunshine, and the dark pool below, the only body of 
water in an area of hundreds of miles, is now simmering warm. At 
midnight it will be cold as ice-water. The Navajo boys are plunging 
and splashing in the tepid bath, their handsome dark bodies shining 
through the clear fluid like bronze statues v'lvants. Around each 
boy's waist is the tight " geestring," from which a single strip of cloth 
runs between the limbs from 
front to back — these two ar- 
ticles never being removed 
from the person in the pres- 
ence of another. Down the 
steep trail from the south 
comes a band to the " count 
and distribution," which is 
expected in a few days. 
The speckled ponies cau- 
tiously tread the perilous 
way, bearing the pappooses 
and household goods; the 
men stalk in front, carrying 
their weapons and articles 
for barter ; behind come the 
squaws, less heavily laden 
than is usual among the In- 
dians, and consequently far 
more shapely and graceful. 
An occasional yelp indicates that some hapless cur, of the little black, 
fiery-eyed and fierce species kept by the Navajoes, has got under the 
sharp hoof of a broncho; then a loud chorus of not unmusical cries 
shows that the band have recognized their friends coming from an 
opposite direction, and soon they unite in the quadrangle inclosed by 
the Ao-ency buildino;s. 

(249) 




COMING TO THE "COUNT. 



250 WESTERN WILDS. 

There the scene is gay. The girls have on their brightest blankets ; 
each neck is encircled by nnmerous strands of beads, the number 
indicating the wearer's wealth ; the men are fancifully touched up with 
red and white paint, while even the withered old squaws have tricked 
out their worn bodies and weather-beaten visages in som'^ remnants of 
faded finery. Groups are seen here and there gambling with Spanish 
cards; others are playing a peculiar aboriginal game like pitch and 
toss, while even the boys are shooting at a mark for wagers of hof- 
chsin. The men are tall and vigorous; the women finer looking than 
those of any other tribe, the younger ones often very handsome. Gar- 
nets, quartz crystals, flakes of mica, chips of aqua-marine, and a dozen 
kinds of glittering stones are displayed in quantities, and often worn 
as ornaments. Occasionally a slab of malachite is seen, and more 
rarely a turquoise ; for the whole region abounds in curious stones and 
petrifactions, with more fossils than Agassiz could classify in a month. 
All the hillocks made by the desert ants are found to be dotted with 
garnets, which, both plainsmen and Indians say, the insects have gath- 
ered from the adjacent plain and piled there — evidently attracted by 
their brightness, whether from a sense of beauty or otherwise. 

Three hours before one would not have known there was an Indian 
in the vicinity; now the square is full, and others are still pouring 
in. But all are doomed to disappointment. Congress has been too 
busy President-making to pass the appropriation bills, and the agent 
sadly says: " No provisions yet." It is a time of scarcity with them 
too. The annuity for the previous year has long been exhausted ; 
their crops for 1870 were very poor; in 1871 there was a total fail- 
ure. Their miserable, dry, burnt-out and barren country is yearly 
growing dryer and more barren; the bunch grass is abundant, as it 
grows without summer rains, but they have not had time to recruit 
their flocks since the devastating Navajo war, and starvation threatens 
half the tribe. The last grain in the agency store-house was issued 
on the 14th of June; the Indians have eaten all their oldest sheep and 
goats, saving the young, especially the ewes, to the last, and when I 
visit their hor/ans I sometimes see them gnawing away at what look 
suspiciously like equine shanks. The Agency employes have not been 
paid for a year, and have to buy their own provisions from the nearest 
Mexican settlements. Still the Navajoes are cheerful and lively, in 
their worst troubles still looking for better times; and I spend many 
days of enjoyment rambling among them. 

My first task is to learn enough of the language for the usages of 
common life; and a severe task it is. I begin with ah-tee-chce ("what 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 251 

is it?") and proceed to the words for bread or meat, fire and water, viz: 
chinneahgo, knuh and toh. The language is extremely nasal, equally 
guttural, and abounds in sibilants and triple consonants, many sounds 
having no equivalent in English. In every band are some Mexicans, 
captured young and adopted by the tribe; and a few Spanish words 
are in common use, but so changed in the pronunciation as to make 
them new. Thus Americano becomes Mdicano ; asuca/-, (" sugar") tsu- 
collo ; scrape, ("blanket") selap, and ojn6ye ('' man ") omhly ; for no 
Indian or Chinaman can pronounce the r. Their social customs and 
adornments have a singular resemblance to those of the Japanese. 
They treat their women as well as most white nations. Men do the 
out-door work, women that of the household. The latter are very 
communicative, humorous and mirthful, and nothing seems to amuse 
them so much as my attempts at their language, at which they listen 
and laugh by the hour. They say that a woman fii-st taught them how 
to weave blankets and make water-jars, for which cause it is a point 
of honor with a Navajo never to strike a woman. 

In my visits I frequently heard them speak of En-noiv-lo-hyh, some- 
times joined with the word el-soo-sce, and as I stooped to enter a 
hogan, could sometimes hear the head of the family call to order with 
"Hah-Jcoh! El-soo-sce En-iioio-lo-hijh ! " Learning that this was my 
Navajo name, I sought the interpreter, highly flattered at my noble title, 
to learn its meaning. A broad grin adorned his features as he informed 
me that the two words, translated literally, meant " Slim-man-with-a- 
white-eye." Feeling this to be somewhat personal, and inferentially 
abusive, I had him explain somewhat of my business to them and 
construct a name indicative of my profession ; and henceforth I hope 
to become historical among the Navajoes by an unpronounceable word 
of six syllables, meaning in English " Big Quill." When a commu- 
nication is twice translated, it triples the ambiguity ; and that is the 
method employed Avith them : one interpreter speaks English and 
Spanish, the other Spanish and Navajo. I made my remarks in the 
plainest, most terse English I could command, which the American 
translated into the florid Castilian ; this, in turn, the Mexican rendered 
in the hissing, complicated phrases and cumbrous polysyllables of the 
aboriginal tongue. 

It was but seventy miles to the ruins on the De Chaco, and I had 
arranged to visit them with Navajo guides, when one of the party 
which had gone to San Juan arrived, completely exhausted, and 
announced that Agent Miller had been murdered, and all their horses 
stolen but one; that he had started immediately with that, and the rest 



252 WESTERN WILDS. 

of the party were coming afoot. Next day the others arrived, quite 
worn out, having wallved a hundred miles in three days, carrying 
their baggage. Their account is as follows : The party consisting of 
Agent INIiller, B. M. Thomas, (Agency Farmer,) John Ayers and the 
Interpreter, Jesus Alviso, left Defiance on the 4th of June, to inspect 
the San Juan Valley, with a view of locating the Navajo Agency 
there. The examination was satisfactory, as they found one fertile and 
beautiful valley near the river, capable of being irrigated by a single 
acecquia, and sufficient to support the whole tribe. At the same time, 
three others left the settlements on a prospecting tour, reached San 
Juan one day after the Agent's party, and were camped twelve miles 
from them on the bluff. Neither party dreamed of danger from the 
Utes, as that tribe had been at peace many years ; and, though they 
annoyed the Navajoes greatly, had not molested white men. On the 
morning of tlie 11th, just at dawn, Miller's companions were awakened 
by the report of a gun and whistling of an arrow, both evidently 
fired within a few rods of them. They sprang to their feet, and saw 
two Utes run into the brusli ; ten minutes after they saw them emerge 
from the opposite side of the thicket, and ride up the blufP, driving 
the company's horses before them. They did not know, at first sight, 
that the Utes were hostile, or that they had fired at them. John 
Ayers spoke to Miller, who did not reply ; he then shoved him with 
his foot, still he did not wake. They pulled off his blanket, and 
found him dead. The Ute's bullet had entered the top of his head 
and passed down behind his right eye, without disarranging his cloth- 
ing in the slightest. His feet were crossed, and hands folded exactly 
as when he went to sleep ; his eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted 
into a faint smile, as if from a pleasant dream — all showed beyond 
doubt that he had passed from sleep to death without a struggle or a 
sigh. Thus died James H. Miller, a true Christian, a faithful official 
and brave man. 

Congress did not adjourn without passing the Indian Appropriation 
Bill, and soon came the welcome news that the agent at Santa Fe had 
started several thousand bushels of grain for Defiance. Again the em- 
ployes took heart; there was joy in the hogans. Mr. Thomas V. 
Keams, Agency Clerk, was acting in place of Miller, deceased, and I 
gladly acknowledge the many courtesies I received at his hands. In- 
deed, all the employes, like people generally in these out-of-the-way 
places, vied with each other in making my stay pleasant. I recall par- 
ticularly Dr. J. Menaul and lady, preacher and teacher for the Agency ; 
Lionel Ayers, post-trader; J. Dunn, wagon-master; A. C. Damon, 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 253 

butcher, and Andy Crothers, in charge of grain-room. Altogether, 
the whites at the post numbered sixteen men and four women — a little 
colony far beyond the border of civilization, and the last whites I was 
to see for some hundreds of miles. 

The situation is pleasant and romantic. The Benito Hills, averaging 
five hundred feet above the plain, run directly north and south. On 
the west side of them is a vast inclosed basin, from which Canon 
Benito breaks directly through the hills — a sharp, abrupt gorge, square 
across the formation, with perpendicular walls entirely inaccessible. 
The east end of the cailon broadens into a little valley, at the mouth 
of which, though out on the plain, the fort is situated. A river once 
ran through the gorge, of which the successive periods can be traced 
on the sandstone walls to a height of two hundred feet. There seems 
to have been the original bottom of the canon, whence the river stead- 
ily cut deeper until it had completely drained the basin above. The 
river had long been dry when the fort was located, but several springs 
in the east end of the canon created a stream sufficient to irrigate a 
section of the land on the plain. Here the Navajoes had raised corn 
and melons from time immemorial ; they had no other vegetables when 
found by the' whites. The present occupants of Defiance have throAvn 
a dam across this end of the canon, producing a beautiful artificial lake 
some three hundred yards long, and rising so high as to leave barely 
room for a wagon-road. The lake is strongly alkaline, but a few rods 
below is a spring of the nicest and purest water to be found in these 
mountains. It is the one important treasure of this post, which, with- 
out it, would be almost uninhabitable. In the States, towns are lo- 
cated according to convenience for trade ; in the mountains, settlement 
is determined by the presence of never-failing water. 

I had exhausted the sights near Defiance, and was eager to be off. 
Mr. Keams called in Juerro, the old war-chief of the Navajoes, and 
together they selected an intelligent young man to be my guide to 
Moqui. The Navajoes were scattering out on their summer hunt and 
trading trips, and we were likely soon to have abundant company. 
My new guide took a stout burro for the trip, while I rode a good- 
sized American horse. I was to provision myself and one man to the 
Mormon settlements, and one man back, besides his fee. Thus ran 
the bill: Thirty pounds of flour, ten pounds of bacon, ten pounds of 
sugar, five pounds of coffee, and six boxes of sardines, the whole cost- 
ing but twenty dollars. The same sum to my guides, and five dollars 
for the hire of a burro, made the total expense, for a trip of nearly five 
hundred miles, forty-five dollars — not much more than railroad fare. 



254 WESTERN WILDS. 

My horse, bridle, saddle, lariat, gun (a Spencer), and two Navajo 
blankets cost rac two hundred dollars. My Navajo knew a few words 
of Spanish, perhaps fifty in all -about equal to my list in his language; 
but, unfortunately for general conversation, our words covered about 
the same objects. Such words as the following were in constant use: 



Tohli 


Water. 


Klohli 


Grass. 


Chizz 


Wood. 


Knuhh 


Fire. 


Klee 


Horse. 


Klitt 


Smoke. 


Halikohh. 


Come. 


Tennehh '. 


Man. 



I represent the sharp accent at the end of some words by doubling 
the final letter, and the prolonged nasal sound by nh. The numbers 
as far as twenty-two run thus : Kli, nahkee, tah, dteen, estlahh, hos- 
tonn, susett, seepee, nostyy, niznahh, klitzetta, nahkeetsetta, tahtsetta, 
dteentsetta, estlahta, hostahta, susetetta, seepetta, nostytsetta, nalita, 
nahta kli, nahta nahkee, etc. " Thirty " is tahta, " forty " dteenta, and 
so on, while after each the ten integers run as at first. 

We are oif before noon of June 18th, the whole white population 
joining us in a " stirrup cup," and Avhite, brown, and red waving a 
good-bye. John, as I christened my Navajo, led the way up Cailon 
Benito, and over a low spur of red hills into a beautiful green valley 
about a mile square, quite level, and covered with grass a foot high. 
On every side of it rose bare columns and ridges of sand-rock, but 
from their base trickled here and there tiny rills of water — enough to 
keep the valley fertile. Herds of sheep and goats, attended by Nava- 
jo girls, and some horses attended by boys, enlivened the scene. 
Through this, and on to another sand-ridge, then three miles more, 
brought us to a long narrow valley, winding for miles among the hills, 
and looking as if it had once been the bed of a river, and been heaved 
up by some convulsion. For hours we crossed such valleys every two 
or three miles, none of them more than a hundred yards wide, and 
separated by barren ridges. The grass in the valleys was rank and 
thrifty ; the ridges had nothing but an occasional sprig of sage-brush 
or cactus. Every-where along the grass-plats were shepherd girls 
with considerable flocks, each girl carrying a set of Navajo spools and 
spindle and a bunch of wool, on which she worked in the intervals of 
watching. These spools are very similar in shape to those used in our 
rural districts, but large and clumsy. With a pointed stick, turned in 
the right hand, the spinner runs the wool on to the larger spool in 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 255 

rolls somewhat smaller than the little finger. Having filled it, and 
transferred to a smaller stick, she runs it to the smaller spool in the 
form of a very coarse yarn, when it is ready for the " filling " in a 
blanket. Herding is the most laborious work the Navajo girls have 
to do. They have all the advantages of the healthful climate, without 
the fatigue of long expeditions, and are, as a rule, stronger and health- 
ier than the men. They are the only Indian girls I ever saw who 
even approximate to the Cooper ideal. Their dress is picturesque, con- 
sisting of separate waist and skirt; the former leaves the arms bare, 
and is made loose above and neat at the waist; the latter is of flowered 
calico, with a leaning to red and black, and terminates just below the 
knee in black border or frills. Neat moccasins complete the costume, 
the limbs being left bare generally in the summer. They are very 
shapely and graceful, and their strength is prodigious. 

This plateau, the ridges being of sandstone and the narrow valleys of 
mixed sand and black earth, is at least 7,000 feet above the sea. 
Thence we descended to a M'ooded hollow, again toiled up to the 
plateau level, and soi^n entered the most magnificent forest I have seen 
outside of California. A cold wind had chilled us on the ridges, but 
in the forest there Vas a dead calm, though we could hear the breeze 
sighing far above us. This splendid park continued for ten miles ; 
then we descended to another valley, where the soil was evidently rich, 
though perfectly bare for want of water; but around the edges was a 
bordering meadow of good grass, spangled with red and yellow flow- 
ers. This valley is an oval some five miles long, opening northward, 
and lacks only water to become a little Eden. From this we rose to 
another forest, also of sugar-pines, but not so large or thrifty as the 
first. My guide informs me that these forests are as long as they are 
wide, and, as we traveled twelve or fifteen miles through them, 
they must cover some two hundred square miles. This will be a great 
source of wealth to the Navajoes, if they learn how to use it. 

The timber continued to the entrance of Bat Canon, by' which we 
enter the De Chelley. There my guide points to a side gulch, exclaim- 
ing, " Tohh klohh no mas," and we stop for the night. Hoppling the 
horse for a night's grazing, we sample our provisions, with satisfactory 
results, and retire. Navajo blankets will not admit the moisture of 
the ground, even if there had been any, which there was not; and with 
two over me, and the saddle-blanket below me, I was comfortable till 
towards morning, when the cold was intense. We hasten to descend 
into the canon before the sun is hot, and go down from the grove upon 
a sandy plain, dotted with scrubby hemlocks, and sometimes with tim- 



256 WESTERN WILDS. 

bcr of larger growth. The surroundings all show that we are on the 
Pacific coast; the dry, gray and yellow grass, straight sugar-pines and 
scraggy hemlocks, and the soft airs loaded with resinous odors. We 
enter next upon a vast flat of sandstone, on w^hich the little feet of 
Navajo burros have cut the trail into a groove two inches deep, and 
cross it to the head of Bat Canon. The first view is discouraging. 
We come suddenly to an abrupt break in the sandstone, no more than 
a rod wide, down which we can look a thousand feet perpendicular to 
the yellow bottom. A few hundred yards beyond we find a side 
groove, which lets us down to the first offset, and thence, by a succession 
of rocky grooves, we work our way with cautious steps to the bottom. 

W^e appear to be at the bottom of a vast funnel, but there is a pass 
three rods wide, still leading downward. Soon the cliffs above us 
overhang, and we pass through a gorge where the sun never shines, 
and thousands of gaunt bats, of a strange species, inhabit the crevices 
of the cliffs, and flit about in midday twilight. According to my 
guide, this is the place by way of which cowardly Navajoes must enter 
the spirit-land after death. 

Passing this the narrow walls give back, and w'e are in a little 
valley with running water and occasional clumps of grass, and 
bounded by perpendicular cliffs. As we proceed, the valley gets wider, 
but the walls appear to overhang rather than maintain a plumb line. 
Occasionally, an entirely detached rock is seen standing out from some 
sharp corner W'here there is a turn in the canon, a sort of tower sev- 
eral hundred feet high, and no more than a hundred thick, its sides 
and summit cut into a thousand fanciful shapes by the action of sand 
and wind. Other pieces of the cliff appear to have been loosened, and 
to have slipped down ; and in many places there w^ere enormous slabs 
two or three hundred feet high leaning against the wall. Wind and 
loose sand had cut the face of the clift' into ten thousand fanciful 
shapes: elephants, hippopotami, alligators, and most ludicrous human 
heads looked down upon us, and from a j)eak two thousand feet over- 
head a gigantic bear appeared just plunging from the summit. 

'' Maliloha r^ exclaimed the guide, and following the direction of 
his finger, I saw the " woman," a shepherd girl, springing down over 
the rocks in a narrow side gulch. She showed me, through the 
narrow opening into the gulch, that the latter widened out behind the 
cliffs into a rocky valley where her herd of goats were feeding. She 
preferred the common request for chin-ne-ah-go (bread), and in return 
for a small gift, conducted us to a plat of good grass, near the junc- 
tion of Caiion de Chelley, where we let our animals graze two hours, 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 257 

as I intended remaining in the canon all day. We had scarcely got 
onr baggage piled, before the whole community of three families were 
about us. I pacified them with tobacco, preferring, if we got into a 
strait, to do without that, rather than bread. 

Bat Canon there runs nearly straight west, and is joined by Canon 
de Chelley from the north-east ; the meeting of the two and the turn 
below produces three grand peaks, facing to one center, some fifteen 
hundred feet high, and quite perpendicular. But the most remarkable 
and unaccountable feature of the locality is where the two canons 
meet. There stands out a hundred feet from the point, entirely iso- 
lated, a vast leaning rock tower, at least twelve hundred feet high, 
and not over two hundred thick at the base, as if it had originally 
been the sharp termination of the cliif, and been broken oif and 
shoved further out. It almost seems that one must be mistaken, that 
it must have some connection with the cliff, until one goes around it 
and finds it a hundred feet or more from the former. It leans at an 
angle from the perpendicular of at least fifteen degrees ; and lying 
down at the base on the under side, by the best " sighting " I could 
make, it seemed to me that the opposite upper edge was directly over 
me. That is to say, mechanically speaking, its center of gravity 
barely falls within the base, and a heave of only a yard or two more 
would cause it to topple over. Appearances indicate that it was 
originally connected with the point of the cliff, but the intermediate 
and softer sand-rock has fallen, been reduced to sand, and wafted 
away down the caiion. Climbing to some of the curious round holes 
in the cliff I could see the process of wear going on ; the harder parti- 
cles of the sand blown into the holes, were being whirled about by the 
wdnd, slowly and steadily boring into the cliffs, and beginning that 
carving which is to result in more of the grotesque shapes. 

It was but a few miles now, the guide informed me, till we should 
reach the celebrated "cliff cities" which have made this canon so 
famous. While leaning on the pommel of my saddle in an after-din- 
ner rest, I was startled by a shout from my guide of '^Ali-yec! Ah- 
yee, 3Iclicano, ettah-hoganday ! " (" There, there, sir American ; the 
mountain-houses.") Looking, I saw the first hamlet, a small collec- 
tion of stone huts some fifteen hundred feet above the canon bed, and 
perhaps three hundred feet below the summit. One glance served to 
disprove many of the theories advanced about rope ladders and the 
like. It could not have been reached thus, for the cliff overhung 
considerably both above and below it. Indeed, a rope dropped from 

the brow of the cliff above would have swung: over the canon .1 
17 



258 WESTERN WILDS. 

hundred feet farther out than the ledge on which the houses stood. 
As near as I could judge at the distance, the ledge was fifty feet 
wide, and the houses some twenty feet square. Evidently the 
" Aztecs" who boarded there did not go to bed by means of a rope- 
ladder. 

My guide Avas now all life and animation, shouting and calling my 
attention to every thing of note on the cliffs as we walked our horses 
slowly down the sandy stream. He seemed to take as much interest 
in the ettah-hoganday as I did. An hour more brought us to a better 
object of study : the ruins of a considerable village were on ihe bottom 
of the canon, by the foot of the cliff, and about a hundred feet 
straight above them, ten or a dozen houses in perfect preservation, 
standing all together on a ledge a hundred feet wide, and completely 
inaccessible. Above the village the cliff was perpendicular for a 
hundred feet or more, then gradually swelled outwardly till it ex- 
tended considerably over the houses, leaving them thus actually in a 
great crevice in the rock. Here was a Monder. My Navajo ran 
about with the activity of a cat, and in several i^laces managed to 
climb up twenty feet or so, then the smooth wall cut off further prog- 
ress. Hunting along the rock he found and called my attention to 
some holes looking like steps cut into the stone, which seemed to 
lead up to a point where one of the peculiar stone slabs I have de- 
scribed leaned against the cliff. The opposite side of the caiion was 
accessible, and not more than two hundred yards distant, so we went 
over there and climbed to a point somewhat higher than the pueblo. 
I then saw that the ledge or groove in the rock, in which the pueblo 
was built, ran along the cliff for a quarter of a mile, some distance 
beyond where we found the stone steps; and thought I saw indications 
of steps, leading down from it a little way toward the detached slab. 
Possibly, I thought, this slab may have been fast above when the vil- 
lage had inhabitants, and furnished them a winding stairway. I saw, 
also, that the houses were of a most admirable construction, built of 
flat stones laid in mortar, and neatly whitewashed inside; and that the 
joists were of massive timber, round, nearly a foot thick, and dressed 
with some care. At the distance of seven or eight hundred feet there 
was much uncertainty, but I fancied I also saw fragments of iron and 
leather on the floor of one house — the only one into which the sun- 
shine fell directly. From the situation of the cliffs, I judge that about 
10 o'clock in the morning the sun would be shining directly in the 
front doors. 

A remarkable echo is observable here. A sentence of ten words 



, WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 259 

shouted from the south side, is returned clearly and distinctly. Not 
far below we found the ruins of another house, not more than forty 
feet high, with shelving rock below. The Navajo found steps to lead 
half way up. He then walked along a flat offset five or six feet be- 
low the house, and held his hands against my feet while I climbed a 
shelving rock and reached it. It was in ruins, and most of the ma- 
terial lay in a heap in the canon below. Only the fire-place and 
chimney, built against the cliff, remained whole ; they were of the 
common Pueblo pattern, and showed dabs of whitewash. I sustained 
one serious disappointment. Through some blunder of my guide or 
the interpreter who instructed him at Defiance, I missed the greatest 
wonder. We ought to have turned up the Cailon de Chelley from 
Avhere we entered it, and a mile or two would have brought us to the 
largest pueblo, one capable of containing a thousand people, situated 
on a cliff fifteen hundred feet high and utterly inaccessible. 

And who once inhabited these towns? Well, I am of opinion 
the people were substantially of the same race as the present Pueblos. 
The houses are an exact reproduction of those at Pueblo de Laguna, 
including stone, mortar, towers, acqunrra windows, and whitewashed 
interior. From the lower valleys they retreated to these cliffs where 
their mounted enemies could not pursue them. But the streams on 
which they depended are dried up, and the little nooks they once cul- 
tivated are fast being buried by the drifting sand. The disintegrating 
cliffs are spreading barrenness over all the valleys ; the caiion bed is 
like a vast river of sand. As we journey down it a feeble stream 
sometimes shows itself for a few rods, and is then lost; again our 
animals' hoofs turn up moist sand. Occasionally bright meadows of 
green grass appear; and again the sand river seems to divide and flow 
around a fertile island a little higher than the main land, and con- 
taining a few acres of dense wheat-grass, as high as a man's head. 
Again we find the cliffs sinking from a perpendicular to a slope of 
sixty degrees or so, and bordered by considerable foot-hills; and there 
we see shrubby hemlock, bunch-grass, a few herds and Navajo ho- 
gans. Above are their goats clambering up what appears the bare, 
yellow face of stone; but riding near we observe hundreds of little 
gullies worn in the rock, each with a slight stain of soil and a few 
bunches of yellow grass. Looking for camp early, we came upon a 
green island of some ten acres, containing three Navajo huts; my 
guide shouted to the first shepherd girl he saw, who pointed to a peak 
half a mile away, exclaiming, " Klohh, tohhf We rode thither, and 
to my surprise found that the cliffs gave back and inclosed a level 



260 WESTERN WILDS. 

plat of a few acres, a sort of mountain cove, sodded with luxuriant 
grass, and containing another Navajo settlement. Their goats were 
kind enough to prefer the high gulches, leaving the green grass of 
the plat in abundance for our stock. In the center was a dug spring, 
but no running water. The community had abundance of goats' 
milk and white roots — nothing else. 

AVhile the Navajo prepared our supper, I went to the first hogan, 
findingan old man quite sick, who asked — the only Spanish he knew — 
if I had any azucar y cafe, adding that he had not tasted food for a 
week. His daughter went back to camp with me, after the sugar and 
coffee, and all the other women in the settlement having arrived, they 
waited to see us eat. Opening a tin box, to their great astonishment 
I took out a sardine and jokingly held it out for them to see, then ate 
it, when they turned away with such expressions of horror and dis- 
gust that I was heartily ashamed of myself. Their feelings Avere 
probably about the same as ours would be on seeing a Fejee chewing 
ou the corpse of his grandmother. Fish and turkeys either will be or 
have been human beings, in their theology ; they never touch the 
former, and the latter only to escape absolute starvation. I had been 
warned that I would find my Navajo prone to disregard cleanliness; I 
found him rather neat and careful. But imagine my astonishment 
when I saw that all his native politeness could not entirely conceal 
his disgust at eating with me. The sardines had done for my repu- 
tation among the Navajoes. 

Supper over, I climbed as far as possible up one of the side gulches, 
lighted my pipe, and sat down to watch the line of sunshine and shadow 
creep slowly up the sixteen hundred feet of the opposite cliff, while the 
red sun sank behind the mountains. Sunlight gave place to dusk, and 
the dav's heat to a sharp air which made me draw my blanket close 
around my shoulders ; then came on the brilliant night of this climate, 
in which every silvery star seems to stand out from a firmament of 
polished steel. But in a few minutes the moon rose above the east- 
ward peaks, and poured a flood of glory on tlie barren rocks, trans- 
forming the red peaks to shining mountains of gold, and the sand-flat 
to a floAving, glittering stream of gems. The air held no trace of 
moisture. I was weary, but the sight was too glorious to admit of 
sleep. I sat and gazed ; tried to reason on the geology of these hills, 
but soon nature compelled me from the domain of science to that of 
imagination. It was a time to admire and enjoy, not to philoso- 
phize ; for, though we go back in scientific fancy from age to age, 
from cosmic process to cosmic process, we come at last to a mighty 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 261 

void which reason can not pass, and can only think : " In the begin- 
ning, God — " 

There, in childhood, we began ; there, after ages of scientific con- 
jecture, must we rest. Reason exhausted leans on faith, and learning's 
last endeavor ends where revelation began. 

We were off* next day at the first glimmer of dawn, hoping to reach 
grass and water early in the afternoon, and knowing that at the best 
we had a long day's ride before us. It is delightful for travel till 
about 10 o'clock ; then the morning breeze dies away, and, as the 
afternoon breeze does not rise till about three, the intervening heat 
is terrible. We are already nearly two thousand feet below Defiance, 
and going a little lower every day, with corresponding change in the 
climate. The grand scenery continues to the very mouth of the canon, 
which we reached in two hours, then breaks down into a brief succes- 
sion of foot-hills and ridges of loose sand, and brings us to an ojien 
plain. Here were two or three sections of land under some sort of 
cultivation by the Navajoes, but it was the most pitiable prospect for a 
crop I ever saw. The feeble, yellow blades of corn, three or four 
inches in height, had struggled along through drought and cold till 
the heavy frost of June 17th, and now most of them lay flat on the 
ground. My guide waved his hand over the field, exclaiming, mourn- 
fully, " J\Iuerto, muerto" (dead); '^ no chinneahgo Navajoes J' A few of 
the more resolute were out replanting, which they did with a sharpened 
stick, or rather paddle. They dig a hole some ten inches through the 
dry surface sand to the moist layer underneath, in the edge of which 
they deposit the grain. They plant wheat the same way, in little hills 
a foot or so apart, and weed it carefully till it is grown enough to cul- 
tivate. If there is water, they irrigate ; otherwise, it has to take its 
chances; and the guide informed me that the acecquia we saw issuing 
from the canon had long been dry. Twenty bushels of corn and ten 
of wheat are extra crops. If any citizen of rural Ohio, who can de- 
liberately sit down three times a day and recklessly eat all his appe- 
tite craves, is dissatisfied, he ought to travel awhile in this country. 

Crossing the dry arroyo we rose on the western side to a vast flood- 
plain, ten miles wide, and running as far as I could see from north to 
south. The surface showed that it had been flooded some time within 
the last few years ; there was not a trace of alkali or other noxious 
mineral, and the soil was of great natural fertility. But there was 
not a spear of vegetation on it, simply for lack of moisture. Here are 
at least a hundred square miles, formed of detritus and vegetable mold, 
now utterly worthless for want of water. If artesian wells are possible. 



262 WESTERN WILDS. 

the Avliolc tract may be of great value. We rose thence by a succession 
of white saud hills to a horrible desert, which extended some twenty 
miles. Our horses suifered from both heat and thirst, and the water 
in our canteens was soon simmering warm. As we neared a low 
range of gray and chalky-looking hills, the sage-brush appeared a 
little more thrifty, and sometimes showed a faint green tinge, indicat- 
ing there was water somewhere in the vicinity. 

A faint track, as if made by sheep or goats, crossed our trail, 
w'hereat the guide whirled his horse toward the ridge, ran his eye 
along the peaks, and selecting one Avhieh to my eye in no way dif- 
fered from the rest, exclaimed, " JbA.'" and we started for it. At the 
mouth of the gorge w^as a sickly little cottonwood in a small depres- 
sion, at which the guide remarked: ^^ Toh pasar muchos cmoa^^ (water 
many years ago), and we struck up the nearest gulch. The rock 
every-where was crumbling aw^ay ; it was like riding up a mountain 
of chalk. At the foot of, and partly underneath a large cliff, we found 
two holes, scooped out by Indian hatchets, and containing a gallon or 
so of water to each, the one almost cool and the other blood warm. 
After treating ourselves to a quart or so each, my horse drank the cool 
one and the burro the other, and we struck into the desert again. On 
the western side, my guide had told me, we should see the last Nava- 
joes; but' we soon met most of the colony driving before them their 
little herds, and to the guide's question they replied that the grass 
there was gone, the water dried up to one spring, and that was hoh- 
kaioah ki wano (decidedly not good). Though I did not quite under- 
stand this, I saw, by its eifect on the guide, that it Avas bad news for 
us, who had already ridden forty miles. 

There was but one family left, and the girl showed us a specimen 
kettle of the water. It was horrible stuff, but we must have some of 
it, and climbing an hour we reached the pool. All around it the sand- 
stone had been trodden to powder and was drifting into the water, 
which was green, slimy, full of vile pollywogs, and looked and smelt 
as if ten thousand goats had waded through it. The horse and burro 
drank with many sniffs and brute j)rotests, and John and I downed a 
pint or so each ; but it was a signal triumph of catholic stomachs over 
protesting noses. We had no more than reached the plain till both 
of us were sick, and in an hour I dismounted, unable to ride further. 
John ran about in great distress, gathered some dry yellow flowers, 
and burnt them under my nose, producing a violent sneezing and 
retching. Placing his hand on my stomach, he indicated, by most 
expressive signs, that "it must come up." Having lighted my pipe 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 263 

and placed it in my mouth, he moistened some tobacco and placed it 
under my arms and on the pit of my stomach. The convulsion was 
terrible, but the vile water did come up. 

Two hours more and my thirst, aggravated by the previous sickness, 
became intolerable. John decided that we must climb the mountain 
to our right, to another "pocket" which contained good water. AVe 
toiled upward for a thousand feet, to a point where a soft limestone 
reef broke across the sand-mountain. Here he pointed out a black 
pass between two rocks, and leaving our horses we entered it to find a 
beautiful pool of cold, clear water, nearly a rod square and completely 
covered by overhanging rocks. Here we drank, filled the canteens, 
and rested until the moon was high enough to liglit us back to the 
plain. My horse either smelt the water or heard its splash, and 
uttered a low pleading whinny that went to my heart. It was im- 
possible to get him under the rocky arch into the cave, and I had no 
vessel but a tin-cup. I tried that, but could not even moisten his 
tongue; I wet my handkerchief and tried to "swab" his mouth; he 
chewed it to rags and bit my finger in the operation. About to give 
up in despair, I thought of my wool hat, and filled that for him. It 
fitted his mouth admirably, and by eleven trips with it he was satis- 
fied. Half a dozen hatfuls sufficed for the burro, and we worked our 
way down hill again. But this time my Navajo's sense of locality 
failed him, and on the steepest part he took the wrong chute, pulling 
up his burro just in time to avoid his plunging head first into a ravine, 
but not in time to save himself, as the saddle girth gave way just at 
the wrong moment. As he went head first into a pile of bowlders and 
sand, I looked on in horror, fully satisfied that I was left alone in this 
terrible place ; but he sprang up instantly, and with a silly smile, and 
" Vah, vah, Melicano, malo, malo/" remounted and rode on, only rub- 
bing his crown occasionally. 

Getting back to the plain, we continued our former course south- 
west along the foot of the mesa. My eyelids began to droop with 
weariness, and for fear I should drop oif my horse in sleep, I loosed 
my feet, and raising the stirrup leathers, wrapped them about each 
arm. The position was not favorable to sleep, nor could I keep en- 
tirely awake; and soon I suffered from that queer symptom of dream- 
ing with the eyes wide open, and fixed upon the very object of my 
dream. The bright moonlight fell upon the projecting peaks of the 
ridge to our right, and I endeavored to keep awake by contemplating 
their beauty ; but as I gazed I saw suddenly a score of bright, clear 
streams dashing down as many gulches, and a broad savanna on the 



264 WESTERN WILDS. 

plain below, rich and green with inviting grass. I shouted to the 
guide: ^'Klohl Toll!'' (grass, water), and jerking up my horse, 
pitched forward on his neck and awoke. I braced myself more firmly 
to keep awake, and in a few moments, looking on a rock a little ahead, 
I saw a hideous painted Indian bound out from behind it and take 
position in the sage-brush near the trail. I yelled to the guide and 
grabbed my gun, and just as the hammer was clicking under my hand, 
Indian and rock disappeared, and the answering shout of the guide 
brought me to my waking senses. I knew there was not a hostile 
Indian in fifty miles, so, for fear I would shoot my own horse, I gave 
the gun to the Navajo, and again resolved to keep awake. He still 
pointed ahead for grass, but indicated that it was now "pokecto" (a 
little way). "While gazing on a sand ridge we were crossing, I 
seemed to see it covered with grass and floAvers, and shouting that this 
was the place, reined up my horse suddenly, and again butted him in 
the back of the head, at the imminent risk of giving us both the poll- 
evil. 

At last, near midnight, we reached the little oasis I had anticipated 
in so many fitful dreams. There was abundant bunch-grass but no 
v/ater, and we made a "dry camp." While the Navajo hoppled the 
horses, I wrapped my blankets about me, laid my head upon my sad- 
dle, and in two minutes was sound asleep. It seemed that I had 
scarcely closed my eyes when I was awakened by a " Hah-hoh, Meli- 
canof and, starting up, saAV my Navajo holding the animals ready 
to mount, and pointing to the east, already rosy with the coming dawn. 
IMoving his hand thence towards a point half way to the zenith, 
he remarked: ^' Kloh, toh! No calor," Navajo, Spanish and sign- 
language, meaning in full: "By starting now we shall reach grass and 
water the middle of the forenoon, and before the heat of the day." 
Nevertheless, I decided that a cup of coifee would help things, as 
there was sage-brush enough for a fire, and a pint of water still in the 
canteen. 

After coffee and bread, we found the morning ride delightful, and 
through a better country which produced considerable grass. The 
valley slowly narrowed to a mere pass ; beyond the rugged jaws of 
this red canon there opened an extensive plain, and in its center rose 
an oval mesa, which the guide designated as JNIoqui. We made our 
midday halt at the point of the mountain; but when the guide indi- 
cated grass and water up and over a perfectly bare white sand-hill, I 
shook my head. He only smiled, and led the way. AYith frequent 
rests to our-horses, we had toiled up and over the rising sand-hills for 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 265 

something like a mile, when a sudden descent brought us into a cir- 
cular hollow, containing half a dozen shrubs and nearly an acre of 
densely matted grass. At the foot of the cliff was a slight moisture, 
and pointing to a black rock which appeared nearly five hundred feet 
straight above us, the guide intimated there was our spring. Every 
thing was stripped from the animals except the lariats, but how we 
ever got them up that hill is a mystery to me; but we did, and found 
plenty of good water, brought down our supply, and remained in this 
camp until 3 P. M. We cooked a fresh supply of bread, ate a big 
dinner, and enjoyed a delightful "laze" in the shadow of a big rock. 

"We here overhauled our kit, brushed up a little, and put on our 
best gear for a visit; and, Avhen the afternoon breeze had sprung up, 
entered upon the sandy plain, and followed a slight trail towards the 
mesa. Occasional depressions were filled with yellow bunch-grass, but 
most of the plain was of hard, bare white sand, seeming to literally 
bake in the heat of the sun. Approaching the foot of the mesa we 
found the sand a little more loose and dark. Here I noticed rows of 
stones a foot or so apart, and^vas amazed to find, on examination, we 
were in a Moqui field. By every little hill of corn or beans they had 
laid a stone, the object being to mark the spot during the long period 
between planting and the appearance of the shoot above ground. 

From the foot-hills I gazed with astonishment upon the perpendic- 
ular Avails and projecting cliffs of the mesa, rising a thousand feet 
above me.' It is little over half a mile long and half as wide, and 
rises abruptly from the plain on every side; around it run gal- 
leries and foot-paths, winding in and out upon the crevices and pro- 
jecting shelves of rock; and far above my head, as it seemed almost 
in midair, I saAV goat-pens upon the very face of the cliff, opening 
back into dark cool caves, where the stock is inclosed at night. Here 
and there was to be seen a Moqui Avoman toiling Avearily up the rocky 
gallery AA'ith a Avater-jug strapped upon her back. 

It AA-as a strange sight. I AA'as thrilled at the thought that I AA^as 
looking upon the chosen stronghold of the most peculiar race of Amer- 
ican Indians: a city about Avhich conjecture and romance had taken 
the place of knoAvledge, a country vaguely described by hunters, but 
never by careful AA'riters, and therefore one the very existence of AA^iich 
is often pronounced fabulous. It is perhaps the strongest natural 
fortification in the Avorld. Around the entire mesa there is but one 
narroAV way that a horse can ascend, and on that, at a score of points, 
a squad of boys with nothing but stones could defy the cavalry of the 
world. The springs AA'hich supply the community are situated around 



266 WESTERN WILDS. 

the base of the highest cliffs, where the foot-hills begin, but so far up 
that most of them can not be reached by horses from below; and 
even most of their little fields are hidden among the foot-hills, and 
only to be found from above. From the general level of the plain to 
the flat top of the mesa I estimate at a thousand feet. Half of this 
rise is by a succession of rolling sand ridges, and ithen we come to a 
perpendicular cliff, only surmountable by these rock-hewn galleries. 
The community owns neither horses nor cattle ; nothing but goats, and 
equally agile burros, can surmount the obstacles of such a situation. 

We entered upon the ascent in a hot and narrow pass between two 
sand ridges, and soon reached the first spring, below which was a suc- 
cession of walled fields. Each field was about three rods wade and six 
long, and contained some three hundred hills of corn ; they were 
built up against the sand ridge, a stone wall four or five feet high 
forming at once the division for one and support for the dirt in the 
next, the fields rising in a succession of terraces. The feeble stream 
was exhausted before it passed the second field, and it is only in the 
night that the lower ones can be irrigated. Farther down, where there 
is no water, the Moqui digs a hole in the sand eighteen or twenty 
inches deep, and plants his corn where a slight moisture has perco- 
lated from above. We passed the slope, and were about to enter 
on the gallery road, when a Moqui shouted to us from directly over- 
head, and in obedience to his directions, though at the imminent risk 
of our necks, the guide turned down a rocky foot-path to artother gal- 
lery. A few steps showed us that a vast sand-rock had fallen across 
the other road, and a new one had been built. 

As we turned the last groove in the gallery, and, almost before we 
were aware of it, the houses looking so much like stone, we were 
right in the first town, all the men of which seemed to be absent. At 
Defiance I was told to ask for Chino, the Capitan of this mesa, before 
I talked to any one else; so I shouted to call out some one. A woman 
came on top of the nearest house, and seeing me immediately set up 
a cry of jokow f jokow! Then from every house women and children, 
with occasionally a man or good-sized boy, came running on to the 
house-tops and down the ladders to the street, while the cry went 
ahead from house to house, jokow f jokow / jokoiv f A population of 
several hundred was soon crowding about me, or gazing in astonish- 
ment from the house-tops; the women were chattering and exclaiming, 
and the children when I rode near a house yelling with fright, and 
altogether we were creating a decided sensation. Again I called for 
Chino, and a dozen boys jumped into the road and ran along the 



WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. 267 

cliif, beckoning me to follow. We passed through the first town, the 
whole population following in a tumultuous mass, and in the second 
town — a hundred yards on — found and were admitted to the lower 
part of Chiho's house. He was not at home, but they let us into an 
extension of his dwelling, containing but one story, where we de- 
posited our packs. Twenty boys and women were already on the 
house-top, jostling each other to look through the square opening at 
us; as many more were crowding into the room, and about four hun- 
dred were outside struggling for a good place. 

It is not pleasant to be stared at, even by barbarians, and I was 
greatly relieved when a tall old fellow, with a merry twinkle in his 
eye, arrived, addressed me in pretty good Spanish, and intimated that 
he did the talking for Chino when strangers came. His name, which 
he had on a card written by some white man, was Misiamtewah; he 
had visited the Mormon settlements and Santa Fe, and could speak 
Spanish, Moqui, Tegua and a little English and Navajo, besides being 
fluent in the sign language. I cultivated his acquaintance at once. 

Chino soon arrived, and assured me, per Misiamtewah, that this was 
my town, my house, my country as long as I wanted to stay, and 
assigned me quarters in a very comfortable room, one they usually 
reserve for white visitors. AVe stored our baggage, sent out our 
animals to graze with the common herd, opened our provisions and 
took supper w^ith Chino and his son. I was in pleasant quarters again, 
and devoted a few days to rest, study of these peculiar people, and 
jotting down notes on my trip through the two Territories, for all of 
which see next chapter. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

AMONG THE AZTECS. 

Atiizona and the western half of New ISIexico constitute a vast par- 
allelogram, down the center of which, as dividing water-shed, runs 
the Sierra Madre range. From its summit, varying from seven to 
ten thousand feet high, the country falls off each Avay in a succession 
of plateaus to the two great rivers. The traveler proceeding west- 
ward from the Rio Grande, over an almost level mesa, sees rising be- 
fore him a range of rocky hills from a hundred to a thousand feet 
high, and naturally looks for a corresponding descent on the western 
side. Instead, on reaching the summit, he finds again the level, bar- 
ren mesa spreading away before him, till its sandy and glistening sur- 
face fades into the blue horizon. Across this succession of terraced 
plateaus a few valleys put out eastward, and in the lowest portions of 
these, where some running water is found, are the only cultivable 
lands. A series of such valleys, connected by singular natural passes, 
furnish a feasible route for the Thirty-fifth Parallel Road. 

Still, there is a sort of regularity on the New Mexican side; but 
far otherwise west of the summit. There the high plateaus are broken 
across by awful chasms ; gorges with perpendicular sides go winding 
tortuously through the formation ; all the streams run in great canons 
from two to five thousand feet in depth, with bottoms from one to 
four thousand feet above the level of the sea. Here and there the 
barren plateau appears to drop suddenly to a level plain, and rocky 
ranges of hills inclose an oval valley, walled in on every side by inac- 
cessible mountains, and with passes out only up or down the beds of 
ancient streams, long since dry. It is the oldest country on earth, ex- 
cept perhaps the " back-bone " of Central Africa ; natural convulsions 
have slowly heaved it far above the region of abundant rains or 
dews, and the great Colorado, with its affluents, has for ages been 
sloAvly cutting deeper and deeper channels in the sandstone formation, 
tapping the sources of the springs at lower points, and steadily suck- 
ing the life out of its own basin. On the rocky hills are still some 
fine forests; on the slopes the Indians find abundant bunch-grass and 
wild sage for their hardy animals; and, at rare intervals, a hidden 

(268) 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 



269 



valley is found, low enough to have a growing season without frost, 
with water enough for irrigation, its soil the volcanic detritus of neigh- 
boring hills, and of wonderful fertility. Perhaps one-fortieth of the 
entire area is fit for agriculture. 




ON THE MESA CALABASA. 



Three races inhabit this strange region. The white Americans of 
both Territories number, perhaps, twenty thousand ; the Mexicans at 
least a hundred thousand. The latter are the result of miscegenation 
between the Spanish conquerors and the aborigines, the blood being 



270 WESTERN WILDS. 

about half and half; but the aristocracy have more Spanish, the peons 
more Indian. The pure Indians of all the South-west are divided 
in two general classes — Pueblos and Nomads. The first are all 
friendly, including the Zunis, Moquis, Teguas, Oraybes, Papagoes, 
Pimos and Coco-Maricopas. Of the Nomads, the Navajoes are now 
friendly, the Apaches and Comanches fiercely hostile, and the Utes a 
little doubtful, but nominally peaceful. In the southern sections, the 
San Francisco, White and Magollon Mountains and their spurs 
break up the country into a thousand hidden valleys, in which the 
murderous Apaches hide and graze their stock ; the few trails go twist- 
ing through narrow^ canons, in which, at most unexpected places, the 
savages let fly upon the unwary traveler a shower of poisoned arrows; 
and dreary intervals of desert separate the scant water-holes on which 
the way-worn explorer must depend. 

On the map Arizona appears to have abundance of water, but it is 
an optical illusion. Nine-tenths of the so-called "rivers" are dry; in 
the four hundred miles between Agua Azu and Lee's Ferry, on the 
Colorado, I crossed eleven considerable river-beds, and saw running 
water in but one place. The Colorado is barely navigable for part of 
the year, and not far up, as Brigbam Young found to his cost when he 
built the Callville warehouses. The channel is crooked and changea- 
ble below the canon, rocky and full of cataracts in the canon, shallow 
and impassable above it. Practically it is useless above Fort Yuma. 
For fifteen hundred miles it will float no boats ; there is no timber on 
its banks that can be got at or is worth getting, no gold deposits in 
its bars, no fish in it worth catching, no quarries along it that can be 
utilized, and no land that" can be cultivated. It is purely an onia- 
mental stream. 

Along the Gila (Hcclah) live the semi-civilized Pimos, Maricopas 
and Papagoes. They cultivate the earth with some skill, and produce 
abundance of wheat, corn, pumpkins and melons. Like all the Pu- 
eblos the men are scrupulously honest — the women virtuous to a most 
un-Indian degree. They are well supplied with horses, cattle, sheep 
and goats, are exposed to Apache raids, and freely join with the 
whites in fighting the latter. The Papagoes took a very prominent 
part in the notorious Camp Grant massacre. At first these Indians 
were delighted at the coming of the whites ; now they are sullen and 
uncommunicative, saying that the agents have defrauded them and 
tried to debauch their women. Probably correct. 

The nomadic tribes, except the Navajoes, are dying off at a very 
satisfactory rate. The Yavapais have four natural deaths to one 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 



271 



birth. One-tenth of the Mohaves have died annually for some years. 
It is rare to see one of this tribe entirely free from the scrofulous 
taint. The whole Apache race numbers less than 7,000; 2,000 war- 
riors is the utmost they can raise. Forty years ago they numbered 




' CONVEKTKD ON THK SPOT." 



25,000, and could easily collect 4,000 warriors for a grand raid into 
Mexico. But they are incurably wild, and often hunted like wild 
beasts. For the most part they attack white men at sight, and many 
are the fearful tragedies enacted in these wilds. When an Apache is 
killed, the white settlers, in gleeful sarcasm of Collyer and other " hu- 
manitarians," speak of him as "converted," or "civilized on the s|X)t." 



272 WESTERN WILDS. 

Among the Arizona Indians there are no strong tribal organiza- 
tions, and no men of much influence. The hostile parties are not 
made up from any one clique or small settlement, nor do the members 
join at the command of a chief; but some ambitious leader sends 
word that he will start on a raid, and invites the braves of the vicin- 
ity to join. It is therefore impossible to govern the tribes through 
the chiefs in the manner practiced east of the R/^cky Mountains. 

To all these remarks the Navajoes constitute an encouraging ex- 
ception. They are the original Romans of New Mexico. Spanish 
accounts say that at the Conquest a branch of the ancient Mexican 
Indians, disdaining to submit, took refuge in the hidden valleys and 
on the inaccessible plateaus of the Sierra Madre ; there they joined a 
wild tribe of the Athabascan stock, and from the union of the two 
sprang the present Navajoes. Kindred, on the Athabascan side, of the 
Shoshonees, Comanches, Apaches and Arapahoes, they have all the 
bravery and best qualities of the wild tribes, while from the old Aztec 
or Toltec blood they inherit a peculiar civilization, fair habits of in- 
dustry and thrift, and something like a spirit of progress. For two 
hundred years they carried on almost perpetual war with the Span- 
iards ; then a sort of peace was patched up and continued till the 
Americans got control of the country, and established agencies. Then 
war followed, of course. It lasted seven years, and did not end till 
General W. H. Carleton, in lS63-'64, had destroyed all their or- 
chards and corn-fields, killed their sheep and goats, and literally starved 
them out. 

Barboncito, their great chief, a born diplomat, succeeded in 1868 
in making a very advantageous treaty with General Sherman; and 
since then the tribe has slowly built up again. Before the war they 
numbered 12,000, and it is claimed they owned over a million sheep 
and goats, and at least 30,000 horses. Even now there are few adults 
in the tribe who do not own one or more horses each. Ganado 
Mucho (''Big Herd"), a prominent chief, owns four hundred. In 
18^0 thev began farming under direction of the agent, but so far it 
has not been much of an improvement on their own system. In 
1871 they planted extensively, and had a young orchard growing 
finely, when, on the night of May 31st, a storm of sleet killed every 
tree. The seeds furnished by the department were utterly unsuited 
to this altitude, and they have returned to their old system. The 
country appears to get dryer year by year. It is a pity they could 
not be transferred en masse to the Indian Territory. 

They work in iron, wool and leather; but to no great extent, ex- 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 



273 



cept in the second. Of this they make blankets, which are the 
wonder of all who see them. The loom is rude and primitive, con- 
sisting only of beams to which two sticks are lashed; on these the 
warp, or " chain," is stretched very tight, the two sets of strands 
crossing in the middle. This, with two loose sticks, dividing the 
" chain," and a curved board, looking like a barrel stave with the 
edges rounded, constitute the entire loom. The squaw sits before this 




NAVAJO LOOM. 



with her balls of yarn for " filling" conveniently arranged, works 
them through the strands, and beats them firmly together with the 
loose board, running it in between the strands with singular dexterity. 
The woolen yarn for "filling" is made from their own sheep, gen- 
erally, and is of three colors — black, white and red, from native col- 
oring. Running these together by turns, with nimble fingers, the 
squaw brings out on the blanket squares, diamonds, circles and fanci- 
ful curves, and flowers of three colors, witli a skill which is simply 
amazing. Two months are required to complete an ordinary blanket, 
five feet wide and eight long, which sells at from fifteen to fifty dol- 
lars, according to the stvle of materials. At the Fort, officers who 
18 



274 WESTERN WILDS. 

wish an unusually fine article, furnish both ''chain" and "filling," 
but those entirely of Navajo make are very fine. One will outlast 
a life-time ; and though rolled in the mud, or daubed with grease for 
months or years, till every vestige of color seems gone, when washed 
Avith the soap-weed {inole cactus) the bright native colors come out as 
beautiful as ever. 

They also numufacture, with beads and silk threads obtained 
from the traders, very beautiful neck-ties, ribbons, garters, cufl's 
and other ornaments. More interesting to me than any of their 
handicraft, is the unwearying patience they display in all their work, 
and their zeal and quickness to learn in every thing which may im- 
prove their condition. Officers and agents universally tell me that 
Navajoes work alongside of any employes they can get, and do full 
work. They dig ditches and make embankments with great skill, 
handling the spade as well as any Irishman. Surely such a people 
are capable of civilization. 

Mrs. Charity Menaul, teacher at Defiance, reported considerable 
progress among the Navajoes under her charge. I found the older 
people curious to learn about our customs, and very communicative 
as to their own, though like all barbarians a little reticent as to their 
theology. Their religion, or superstition, is vague ; there is a differ- 
ence on minor points between the bands, though some ideas are com- 
mon. Chinday, the devil, is a more important personage in their 
system than Whylohay, the god; as, like the Mormons and many 
other white schismatics, they charge all they don't like in other people 
to the direct personal agency of the devil. About the only use, in 
fact, of their god, is to lay plans to outwit the devil. Their moral 
code is extremely vague: whatever is good for the tribe is in general 
right; whatever is not jjro bono publico is wrong. Cowards after 
death will become coyotes, while braves will continue men in a better 
country. Women will change to fish for awhile, and afterwards to 
something else. But they don't trouble themselves much about the 
next world. If they had plenty in this, they would consider them- 
selves in luck. 

On minor points there are as many sects as in Boston. The general 
belief is this: there is one Great Spirit; under him each people has 
its own god. The god of the Melicanoes is very good to them ; they 
have corn and horses, blankets and much chinneahgo. But it is use- 
less for Navajoes to pray to him. Each cares for his own. The coy- 
ote will not take up the children of the rattlesnake ; the eagle will 
not irive his meat to the voung hawks. It is light, it is nature. 



AMONG THE AZTECS. ' 275 

Whylohay (a female, by the way) made the Navajoes in the San Juan 
Valley ; they were rich, and had abundance of all things. But one 
night Chinday dammed the San Juan, and drowned them all. Besides 
the fish, only two creatures escaped; the snake swam ashore and the 
turkey flew up to a peak in Colorado. The goddess made the turkey 
into another man, and made a woman from a fish, and from these two 
are descended all the present Navajoes. However, this may be only 
an allegorical statement of the general masculine belief that the sex 
divine are inclined to be slippery and hard to catch. 

Women after death change to fish for awhile ; after that their des- 
tiny seems unsettled. Because of this, Navajoes eat neither fish nor 
turkeys. The snake is the only animal that knows any thing about 
what took place in the first creation. Hence, Navajoes seldom or 
never kill one. From other fish Whylohay recreated the animal 
kingdom. The turkey was made from a fish in a lake covered with 
foam, which lodged on his tail as he swam ashore ; hence, the white 
feathers in the turkey's tail. White men after death go up into the 
air; Navajoes go down through Bat Canon and into the earth. 
Thence they come out a long way west, on the edge of a great water. 
The shore is guarded by terrible evil spirits in the form of men, but 
with great ears reaching from above their heads to the ground. When 
asleep, they lie on one ear and cover with the other. Whether they 
ever " walk off on their ear," the old men could not inform me. 
Only half of them sleep at a time, and the Navajo has to fight his 
way through them. If he is brave, and has treated his women well, 
he gets through ; then the goddess takes him across the water. There, 
like^the white man, they stop; from that country no one has ever 
come back, to say what is there, or tell us about the climate. 

Their women are often quite handsome ; but like barbarian 
races generally, they sell their daughters in marriage. Common to 
average can be had for property to the value of $25 ; prime to fine 
for $50; while young and extra go at $60, the standard price of the 
Navajo speckled pony. While in Caiion de Chelley, I was offered a 
beautiful Miss of fifteen for $60, or the horse I was riding. Perhaps 
I should have closed with the offer — it is so much cheaper than one 
can get a wife in the States. Two months vigorous courting will cost 
more than that — particularly in the ice-cream season. 

The men do the hardest work, in the fields and on the chase; to 
the women is left the weaving, household work, tending the herds 
and grinding. The last is done with the mitata — consisting of two 
flat stones, the lower stationary, the upper rubbed upon it with the 



276 WESTERN WILDS. 

hand, the result being a pasty flour. Of this and water they make 
a mixture no thicker than starch, which they cook on hot stones. 
The fire is built in a small hole, on which is placed the flat stone, no 
more than an inch thick ; when sufficiently hot, the squaw thrusts her 
hand into the starchy solution, and rapidly draws a handful, which 
she spreads upon the stone. In a half-minute it is cooked in the 
form of a brown wafer, no thicker than card^ board. Another and 
another follows till they have a layer some inches thick, which is 
rolled up conveniently for carrying. 

They are the only wild tribe I know who do not scalp dead ene- 
mies. They never had that practice. In fact, they never touch a 
dead body, even of their own people. Each hogan is so constructed 
that the weight rests mostly on two main beams. When one dies in 
a hogan, they loosen these two outside, and let it drop upon him. If 
one dies on the plain, they pile enough stones upon him to keep oif 
the coyotes, but never touch the body. This observance is a serious 
drawback in one respect: it prevents them from building permanent 
dwellings. It is said to be a part of their religion, but I apprehend 
it originated during some plague, when contagion resulted from touch- 
ing the dead. 

One surprising fact to me was that an Indian would sunburn by 
exposure as readily as a white man. But many of our current notions 
about the Indian are erroneous. For instance, it is a great mistake 
to suppose they can travel so long without eating. They know the 
country, and what roots are nourishing or poisonous. In many places 
over this section between the two Coloradoes grows a species of milky 
weed, with tough, stringy root, in taste resembling the "sweet hick- 
ory " the boys use to pull and chew, along the Wabash. The Nava- 
joes cook this in boiled milk, or with bacon when at home, and on 
journeys without supplies take it raw. They get poor as snakes on 
such food ; but it does keep soul and body together for awhile, and 
prevent the deadly faintness resulting from complete fasting. But 
they endure thirst much better than we, and for obvious reasons. 
Their food contains no salt, their bread no chemicals; they rarely get 
intoxicating liquors, and use very little tobacco. With unsalted bread, 
a scant indulgence in bacon, and coffee night and morning, I soon 
found I could go half a day without water with no inconvenience 
whatever. I also tried the practice of riding bareheaded, and found 
that an easy accomplishment. In short, though it takes forty years 
to civilize an Indian, I am positive a well-disposed white man could 
go wild in six months. 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 277 

The origin of the venereal poison is a subject much discussed by the 
Indians. Most of them assert that they had none of it till the Meli- 
canoes came, but the old men admitted that cases were introduced, 
many years ago, from Mexico. The Coyotero, White Mountain and 
Mogollon Apaches have never had a case of it. If one of their 
women oifend with a white man, her nose and ears are cut off, and she 
is made a slave. The Moquis appeared quite ignorant of the exist- 
ence of such a disease. The Tabequache Utes have a woman publicly 
whipped for infidelity with whites. If she be found diseased, she is 
forthwith lanced and her body burned. This savage quarantine has 
effectually preserved the tribe, and I supposed at first it was for that 
purpose ; but the Navajo old men asserted that it was rather as an act 
of mercy to the woman. The Mohaves are perishing rapidly from this 
scourge. The Navajoes claim that there is now very little of it among 
them, and that they treat it successfully. To sum up on my Navajo 
friends : they are the only Indians in wdiom I could ever take much 
interest, and I am confident they can be civilized, and that the "hu- 
manitarian policy" w^ill be a success as applied to them. 

I stop four days with the INIoquis ; I should need six months to 
learn all that is interesting in their mode of life, theology and social 
organization. They are aboriginal Quakers; live at jJeace with all 
men, and have a horror of shedding blood. As a natural consequence 
they have retreated from the open country, and now occupy this 
rocky mole, safe from the hostility of mounted Indians. "Who are 
they? Well, this is one of those things no fellow can find out. The 
conundrum must be referred to that large class relative to the Mound- 
Builders and other prehistoric races of America; for it is self evident 
that the semi-civilized Indians of the South-west are but the feeble 
remnants of a long series of races. 

The three towns on this mesa contain about a thousand inhabitants ; 
and are known as Moqui, Tegua, and Moquina. {Mokee, Tawah, and 
Ilokeena.) A little way westv^^ard are four other towns of the same 
race : Hualpec, Shepalawa, Oraybe, and Beowawa. ( Wallpake, She- 
palaica, Oryhay, and Baoivahwa.) The total population is about three 
thousand. Their houses are of good architectural design, built of flat 
stones laid in white cement, plastered neatly inside, and whitewashed 
with a material which gives a hard, smooth polish. The lower story 
is not as high as a man ; but that they occupy only in winter. On 
this the second story rises ten or twelve feet, seldoni more than half 
as wide as the lower, leaving a broad margin on which they usually 
sleep. The first story has no doors and very small windows; they 



278 WESTERN WILDS. 

ascend to the second by a rude ladder or stone stairway at the corner. 
The better cUiss have carpets of slieep-skin, and all have them to sit 
on ; the climate is too dry for mold, and I found the residences very 
agreeable. 

The people are exceedingly kind and communicative. When the 
novelty of my appearance had worn away a little, and I could walk 
about town without a wondering crowd after me, I rarely turned 
toward a house without receiving the welcome wave of the hand to 
the lips and breast, with the words, ''Ho, Jlelicano, mefisay ro;" or 
sometimes, as many know a few words of Spanish, "Entre: Pasar 
adclanfe.'" Then a boy or girl would run down the stone staircase, 
and extend a hand to steady me in ascending. They took me into 
every room in their houses, and seemed to take a pride in exhibiting 
their best specimens of pottery, wicker-jugs, and other property. Of 
their children they were particularly demonstrative ; and, indeed, they 
looked well enough. I did not, in all the towns, see a single birth- 
mark, blotch, or deformity, except albinism. Children of both sexes 
go entirely naked till about the age of ten years. I noted one curious 
fact: the little ones seemed almost as white as American children, 
till the age of six months or a year ; then they began to turn darker, 
and at ten or twelve had attained to a rich mahogany color. They 
play for hours along these cliffs, chasing each other from rock to rock 
at that dizzy height, and yet the parents seemed surprised when I 
asked if accidents did not happen. 

Their mode of living is very simple, and I happened upon a time 
of unusual scarcity. The general drought of the past three years had 
cut off their crops. As often as Chino, the Capitan of this mesa, 
visited me, I had presented him a tin of warm, sweetened coffee, of 
which they are very fond, and which was the only thing I could 
spare; and had partaken of parched corn with him the evening of my 
arrival, when I received a special invitation to dine with him " the 
day before I left." (People with weak stomachs may skip the next 
paragra2)h.) 

They breakfast early, and dine between 11 and 12. Besides !Misi- 
amtewah, a sort of official interpreter, there is another Moqui, Avho 
speaks Spanish tolerably well, having been a year in Tucson and Pres- 
cott; and both were at dinner with us. "We sat upon sheep-skins on 
the floor, in a circle around the earthen bowls, in which the food was 
placed. The staple was a thick corn mush, which to me was rather 
tasteless for the want of salt. The regular bread of the Moquis is a 
decided curiosity. The wheat is ground with mitats, as by the Nava- 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 279 

joes, but much finer, six or seven women grinding together, reducing 
the flour to the merest dust. It is then mixed as thin as milk; the 
woman cooking dashes a handful on the hot stone, where it cooks al- 
most instantly, and comes off no thicker than paper, and of a bright 
blue color. The flakes are about two feet long, and as they are 
stacked two or three feet deep on the platter, look remarkably like a 
pile of blue silk. They raise white, blue, and red corn; and by va- 
rious mixtures produce bread of seven different colors. They are not 
as clean in their cooking as the Navajoes, and it is hinted that they 
sometimes mix their meal with chamber-lye for these festive occa- 
sions ; but I did not know that till I talked with Mormons who had 
visited them. 

The jiieee de resistance was the hinder half of a very fat young dog, 
well cooked, that animal being the favorite food of the Moquis. It is 
subject to greater extremes than beef; the meat of an old, lean dog is 
very tough, and that of a fat, young puppy, very tender. I took from 
my own store a box of sardines, and Misiamtewah was prev^ailed upon 
to eat one ; but Chino and the rest rejected them with horror. 
There's gastronomic prejudice for you! This man is sweet on dog, 
and rejects a sardine with abhorrence. My Eastern friends take sar- 
dines with avidity, but their gorge rises at the thought of dog, while 
my catholic stomach takes dog and sardine with equal impartiality. 
Parched corn completed the bill of fare, with beverage of goat's milk. 
Both the Moquis and Navajoes never use it until heated almost to the 
boiling point; but after one cup of this, I requested and was served 
with mine cold. The stove, ingeniously constructed of flat stones, is 
either on the ground just beside the door, or on the roof of the first 
story, by the door of the second. 

With my Navajo guide and Chino's son, we formed a very pleasant 
party of six, and had quite a social time. The second interpreter 
informed me that he went to Prescott with Melicanoes and Mesh- 
icanoes, and that they named him — it was probably in sport — 
Jesus Papa (Hay-soos Pahpah.) He was much more communicative 
than Misiamtewah, and had a very fair idea of the Americans. To 
these simple people I represented in person all the dignity of that 
great nation, of whom such wonderful reports had reached them. 
And here I must own to a little deceit. They were at first very in- 
quisitive as to my business, and could not imagine why a white man 
should be making such a long trip with only Indians for companions. 
Savage people can rarely understand that intelligent curiosity which 
is the product of civilization, and suspect some ulterior purpose when 



280 WESTERN WILDS. 

one has nothing to trade, and is not a prospector for mines. So I told 
them I was collecting information about the friendly Indians for the 
use of government, which may be passed as in a sense true. 

The Moquis have a close struggle for existence. The sand sur- 
rounding the mesa presents the poorest show for farming I ever saw, 
yet every-where among these sand-hills are their little walled fields, 
three or four rods square, and from the measure Papa showed me, I 
estimated that his field had produced what would amount to twelve or 
fifteen bushels of corn, and half as much wheat, to the acre. The 
water from neither of the springs runs more than ten rods before 
sinking in the sand; but in some places they have constructed little 
troughs of rock or wood which carry a stream perhaps as big as one's 
finger to the field, and help the case a little. With a sharp stick they 
dig a hole about eighteen inches deep through the top sand, which 
brings them to a moister stratum, in which they lodge the grain. 
Around the hill they then place a few stones, and after dressing in 
clean clothes, sit in solemn silence for hours by the fields — supposed 
to be praying for rain. If no rain comes, which is generally the case, 
they carrv water in their wicker-jugs from the spring, and pour a pint 
or so on each hill. If the season is favorable, the corn grows about 
two feet high, and yields ten to fifteen bushels per acre ; if unfavor- 
able, they get nothing, and live upon goat's milk and white roots, with 
a rare dessert of wild fruit, mescal, or game. 

I said "supposed to be praying," as I could learn of no religious be- 
lief among them, though their Mormon visitors credit them with be- 
ing very pious. I explained at great length our ideas of God and 
nature, and asked Papa as to theirs, with this result: 

Papa — Nothing! [Nada?) The grandfathers said nothing of Dios — 
what you say Got — God (making several attempts at the word.) 

Myself — But, say to me, who made this mesa, these mountains, all 
that you see here ? 

P. — Nothing ! It is here. 

M. — Was it always here ? 

P. — (With a short laugh) — Yes, certainly, always here. AVhat 
would make it be away from here? 

M. — But where do the dead Moquis go? Where is the child I saw 
put in the sand yesterday? Where does it go? 

P. — Not at all. Nowhere ; you saw it put in the sand. How can 
it go anywhere ? 

M. — Did you ever hear of Montezuma ? 

P. — No; Monte — Montzoo — (attempting the word) — Melicanoman? 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 281 

M. — Xo ; one of your people, we think. What are these dances for 
that you have sometimes? 

P. — The grandfathers always had them. 

So ended my attempts at Moqui theology. Probably they were too 

suspicious of a stranger to let me know any thing about it, for an 

Indian considers his religion his even more exclusively than his horse 

or his wife. But they have one curious custom which seems to have 

a religious significance. Every morning, at the first break of day, a 

young man runs the whole length of the mesa with several cow-bells 

tied to his belt; the entire population rise at once, and while the rest 

proceed to milk their goats, the bell-man and a few others descend to 

the plain and go a mile or so towards the east. An army officer, who 

spent some time with them, says they expect a Deliverer to come from 

that direction, and send an embassy to meet him. Thus the Moquis, 

like all other races, look for One to usher in the time 

"When useless lances into scythes shall bend, 
And the broad falchion in a plowshare end ; 
When wars shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail ; 
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale ; 
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, 
And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend." 

Their traditions say (or in their own phrase "the grandflithers 
said") that the ruins on the adjacent mesa were once the homes of a 
powerful race of Moquis, and then an immense spring Avatered all the 
phiin ; but an earthquake threw down the pueblo, split the rock, and 
dried up the spring, and the remnant of that people went far to the 
South. • Telashnimki and Tuba, two Oraybes, husband and Avife, once 
accompanied Jacob Hamlin to Salt Lake City, and were delighted with 
all they saw. Since their return, a portion of the Oraybes have se- 
ceded from the main body, and established a new settlement, to which 
they invite white men, and propose more friendly relations. The 
Moquis pointed out Oraybe in the distance ; but did not think it safe 
for me to visit it, as the Apaches are often there. The Mormons are 
establishing friendly relations with all the tribes of north-western Ari- 
zona, and will, it is to be hoped, succeed in peace in their vicinity. 
One question frequently asked me was, " Are the Mormoneys Amer- 
icans?" A plain affirmative was near enough to the truth for the 
views of the Indians ; but, in point of fact, the question is open to 
argument. 

The dress of a Moqui man consists of very loose jacket and draw- 
ers, made of calico obtained from traders. The first is made close at 
the neck, and flows loosely to the hips; the second reaches from the 



282 WESTERN WILDS. 

waist to a little below the knees. Heavy sandals protect the ie^i. 
But this dress is only conventional, and they often appear entirely 
uaked, except the girdle and breech-clout. The women wear a heavy 
woolen dress, of their own manufacture, consisting of a single skirt 
and sort of half-waist, which leaves one arm and breast bare. Polyg- 
amy prevails to a slight extent. Chino and Misiamtewah each liave 
two wives, but from Avhat little they said on the subject, I conclude 
they consider it a burden rather than a privilege. The women are 
rather homely, short and stumpy — I think from carrying loads upon 
their heads. None of them will compare with the graceful and shapely 
Navajo girls; nor are they prolific. The town at the south end of the 
mesa is slowly falling to ruins ; not half the houses are inhabited, and 
through the other towns there are many abandoned dwellings, now 
used for stables and sheep-pens, or for storing hay. The kindly law 
of nature will not permit increase in a country which can only furnish 
a bare living. Moqui means "Dead Man," and Moquina may be 
translated " Little Dead Town." This is the half-abandoned town on 
the south end of the mesa ; and I was informed by Jacob Hamlin that 
some five years before my visit most of the inhabitants there died of 
small-pox. 

The Tegua town, the one we first enter on coming up the cliff, 
has a language quite distinct from the ordinary Moqui. Those who 
have examined say the Tegua is the same as that spoken by the Pu- 
eblos near the city of Mexico. If true, this is a most important fact, 
and to my mind goes far to supply the missing link in Baron Hum- 
boldt's history of the Aztecs. Governor Arny, of Santa Fe, cpllected 
many facts on this subject, but whether they have been i)ublished I 
know not. Among these people are many albinoes, with sickly 
white skin, red hair and pinky eyes. Many romantic stories have 
been told as to the origin of these white Indians, the most sensational 
beino- that they are descendants of some Scotchmen, carried away by the 
Spaniards in their war against Queen Elizabeth; that tlicy were sent 
to work in the mines of Mexico, escaped in a body and joined the 
Indians. 

The un-romantic truth is, they are Indians as much as the others. 
Their whiteness is simply a disease. If the term be medically cor- 
rect, I would call it a species of American leprosy. We need not go 
far to find the causes: a people living in this dry climate, on hard, 
dry food, in the midst of burning sands, drought, and misery, and 
shut up in these little isolated communities, where the same families 
have intermarried in all probability for a dozen generations. The 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 283 

only wonfler is that they are not totally extinct, or ring-streaked, 
speckled, and grizzled. In the "good old time" when the Pueblos 
were ten times as numerous, intermarriages took place between the 
various towns, their language was nearly the same, and they were 
prolific and progressive. Now they constitute but little islands, as it 
were, in an ocean of Utes, Navajoes, and Apaches; the separated 
towns have gradually grown apart, and become distinct nations ; they 
have no central priesthood or ecclesiastical connection ; their religion 
and learning steadily decay, and even the tradition of a common ori- 
gin is fast becoming obscure. 

Perhaps a theory as to the origin of the Pueblos may be constructed 
by a system of comparative ethnology and archaeology. Beginning in 
the Ohio Valley, there is a regular line of ancient works down to the 
central section of the Andes. The Scioto and Licking valleys are 
thickly dotted with the works of some race to whom we have given 
the vague title of Mound-Builders. There is the great circle at New- 
ark, which now incloses the fair-grounds; the square and circular 
fortification near Chillicothe ; the Great Serpent in Adams County, 
1,000 feet long; the funereal mound, fort, and intrenched way at 
Marietta, and hundreds of others in adjacent districts. There is the 
Pyramid at Seltzertown, Mississippi, six hundred feet long and forty 
feet hio-h • and two thousand other mounds and fortifications described 
by Squier and Davis in their work, an authentic document published 
by the Smithsonian Institution. 

But as we go south-west the ruins are larger and nearer their origi- 
nal condition. Had our predecessors built of stone instead of wood, 
we should doubtless have found such in Ohio. There are the great 
Casas Grandes on the Gila; the remains of the original or Aztec City 
of Mexico ; the immense pyramids at Xochicalco and Cholula ; the 
City of Tulha, ancient capital of the Toltecs, and a regular line of 
ancient cities runs dov/n through Central Mexico and into Guatemala, 
from which, and the inscriptions on them, we learn much of the com- 
mon life of the Aztecs and their predecessors. Every-where there are 
tumuli, acecquias, and aguadas, or artificial ponds. Yucatan is dotted 
with the ruins of cities, temples, and palaces. The great forests cov- 
ering a large part of Guatemala and adjacent States, an area the size 
of Ohio, contains the key to America's ancient history. There is con- 
clusive evidence that it once contained from five to ten million in- 
habitants. The facts are to be found in the works of Del Rio, who 
explored part of it in the last century; of Captain Dupaix, who pen- 
etrated far enough to get exact measurements of the largest towns; of 



284 



WESTERN WILDS. 



Steplicns and Catliorwood, and of Bnisscur de BourLourg, last and 
most thorongh of explorers. The most important places mentioned 
are as follows: 

Palencpie, in the Mexican State of Chiapas, extends for fifteen miles 
along the river Chacamas; among the ruins are those of fourteen large 

edifices, handsomely built 
of hewn stone. " The 
Palace" has a raised foun- 
dation, 40 feet high, 310 
^^ long, and 260 wide ; on it 
^V tlie building is 288 feet 
long, 180 wide, and 25 
high, with fourteen door- 
ways on each side, and 
eleven at each end. 
Cupan, in the western part 
of Honduras, is three miles 
in length, and contains 
stone buildings sixty feet 
high, richly carved with 
arabesque designs. Quiri- 
gua (Keercewah), on the 
river Motagua, consists of 
a vast array of broken 
CO 1 u m n s and mo n ol i th s, 
with no building stand"- 
ing. Mitla, in the Mexi- 
can State of Oaxaca, was 
evidently built in splendid 
style, but only three buildings remain entire. It abounds in carved 
figures and relievos. In the same region is an astronomical monu- 
ment; on it the sculptured profile of a man holding to his eye a 
tube which is directed to the stars. 

But Peru contains the most striking monuments of the ancient 
civilization. There once flourished a proud empire extending over 
twenty degrees of latitude. There was a paved road five hundred 
miles long, part of it remaining to this day. Beautiful monuments 
abound, and curious manufactures have lately been unearthed. There 
are gauzy articles of ])ure gold, so light that a breath will waft them 
from one's finger. There are fragments of the quippus — a knotted 
cord with threads of various colors, Avith which they kept accounts. 




AZTEC PRIEST AND WARRIORS. 



AMONG THE AZTECS. 285 

The mummies show that trepanning, tooth-drawing, and amputation 
were practiced. They had timbrels, stringed instruments, drums, 
flutes and trumpets. Their principal city was supplied with water 
through lead pipes inlaid with gold, of which one was recovered 
entire, and now supplies the Convent of Santo Domingo. But the 
obscurity hanging over their history seems impenetrable. It is proved 
that this ancient people, both in the Ohio Valley and further south, 
must have had a tolerably regular government and a good system of 
agriculture to sustain a dense population; that they were often at war 
with a more savage people than themselves, and that they left our 
country at least five hundred — more probably a thousand — years ago. 
A score of theories have been projected. This civilization and 
these ruins have been in turn attributed to the Assyrians, Egyptians, 
Phoenicians, "Lost Tribes of Israel," Greeks, Romans, Malays, 
Northmen, and the Tartar expeditions sent out by Kublai Khan ; but 
each theory has in turn been proved untenable. The Booh of 3Ior- 
mon tells with wearisome details how an Israelite family came to 
America six hundred years before Christ, gave rise to two nations 
who alternately built cities and battered them down in war, and 
finally the white half became extinct and the others turned to Indians ; 
and Orson Pratt has amplified the subject in a number of works 
which show the plausible absurdities of the astronomer run mad. 
Hence, in all Mormon literature, the Indians are spoken of as " Lam- 
anites" — whom, for their wickedness, "God cursed v/ith black skins." 
But the average Gentile mind is not equal to the task of swallowing 
such a story. 

But why should we assume that these people came from the Old 
World? Is all civilization necessarily exotic ? There is nothing in 
these ruins particularly suggestive of Roman, Greek, or Egyptian 
architecture. We see in China that a spontaneous civilization arose 
and ran its peculiar course without any aid from Europe. In Europe 
we see that civilization began in the south and spread towards 
the north ; that it was overthrown by northern barbarians, again rose 
in the south and spread to the north. The latest investigators are of 
opinion that a similar movement took place in America: that civili- 
zation originated among the Colhuas in Peru and ancient Mayas in 
Yucatan; that their successors, the Toltecs, carried it towards the 
north ; that in the latitude of Ohio they met the northern barbarians 
and were slowly driven south, where civilization revived somewhat, 
and was again advancing northward when the Spaniards came and 
destroyed it. In this theory the Toltecs are set down as our :Mound- 



286 WESTERN WILDS. 

Builders, and it is concluded that the last of them left the Ohio Val- 
ley a thousand years ago. There is a vast mass of evidence confirma- 
tory of this view. And, incidentally it may be remarked, that a Mr. 
AViley, of Kinderhook, Illinois, in the year 1843, did discover in an 
ancient mound six bronze plates, curiously corresponding to the de- 
scription given by Joe Smith of those from which the Book of Mor- 
mon was translated. Many impartial critics have since concluded 
that, impostor as he was. Smith did obtain from a mound in New York 
some kind of curious plates. The entire subject has been strangely 
neglected by American scholars. The finest mound in Marietta was 
sold by the city to a private citizen, who carted it away to make brick 
of! In a similar spirit an English merchant in Greece, who needed 
some marble for the front of his house, tore down a classic pile which 
had survived the invasions of Thracian, Roman, Goth and Turk for 
two thousand years. But there is yet in America evidence enough for 
some determined antiquarian to decide whether the Toltecs were our 
ancestors in Ohio. 

I give this as the latest theory. As for myself, I grew intensely 
interested in the matter from what I saw in Arizona, and on my re- 
turn to the States eagerly embraced the first opportunity to investi- 
gate. I read Baldwin's " Prehistoric America," and was only half 
convinced; I consulted Stephens and Catherwood, Squier and Davis, 
and got facts without conclusions. I then examined all the authorities 
above quoted, and finally came to the deliberate conclusion that the 
whole subject is considerably mixed. If the reader don't like this 
theory, he has my permission to construct one of his own. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

FROM MOQUI TO THE COLORADO. 

It was still eight hundred miles to the end of the Thirty-fifth 
Parallel Road. But universal testimony agreed that the desert gre\v 
worse all the way, till one should cross the Sierra Nevada and enter 
settled California. Nor was it possible to go unless one had a large 
party well armed. It was but three hundred miles to the Mormon 
settlements, and some four hundred farther to Salt Lake City. That 
way, then, was my easiest and cheapest route out of the wilderness. 

Navajo parties were scattered along the route, and we should doubt- 
less have plenty of company. My guide from Defiance returned there, 
carrying with him an immense roll of manuscript which I had pre- 
pared at odd hours since leaving that post. He left Moqui June 24th ; 
Mr. Keams, agreeably to my written request, sent another Indian 
on to Wingate with my letters ; there they caught tlie semi-monthy 
military express to Santa Fe, and thus my communications of June 
24th appeared in the Cincinnati Commercial -"f July 13th — a marvel 
of aboriginal mail service. The last day of my stay at Moqui, came 
the father and sister of my new guide, the former en route to Utah, 
and the latter merely on a friendly visit to the Moquis. My guide 
arrived on the 23d, and presented his nelsoass, which read as follows: 

" To all whom it may concern : 

" The bearer, a Navajo Indian, with his father, have permission to accompany J. H. 
Beadle, Esq., to the Mormon settlements. They are good Indians, and I trust any one 
who meets them will treat them kindly. 

THOMAS V. KEAMS, 
Clerk Navajo Agency, 
June 21, 1872. Acting Agent." 

For convenience sake I christened him John, the universal title 
for Indians and Chinese. 

The loud rattle of the Moqui bellman roused me betimes on the 
morning of the 25th, and immediately I heard the long resonant cry 
of Chino on the summit of the highest house, chanting the order of 
the day's work, according to their custom. In this morning call he 
also recites any special events expected to occur, and doubtless set 
forth my intention to depart, for long before the bellman and guard 

(287) 



288 WESTERN WILDS. 

returned from the plain half the population of the mesa were around my 
do)iio waiting to see us off. No "stirrup cup" this time; I divided 
my tobacco with Chino, and presented him the only linen shirt I had 
with me, for I had about as much use for it as a Highlander has for a 
knee-buckle. The Moquis do not use money in any form, that I could 
see, and the flowered calico 1 had taken along to pay expenses with 
was exhausted, as the peo[)le hud been most kind in furnishing goats' 
milk and eggs and carryiug in blankets full of grass for my horse. 
Chino presented me in turn with a huge roll of meacal, and after a 
warm embrace — Moqui good-bye — from him and the interpreters, we 
mounted and were off, the whole population joining in a loud song 
that died away into a sort of wail as we descended the rock-hewn 
gallery. 

We traveled north-north-west all day, through a somewdiat better 
country than that east of Moqui; good bunch-grass was abundant, and 
on the ridges were considerable thickets of scrubby pine. In the 
mountains which border the oval valley about Moqui there are many 
peach trees; the Moquis dry the fruit, and also pound up the seeds 
and make a thick paste therefrom. Mescal, also one of their luxuries, 
looks w4ien dried like a mass of soft sole-leather, and tastes much like 
ripe sugar-cane. It is slightly cathartic, and is a good change from 
dry bread and bacon. 

To our left all day was a considerable ridge, and by expressive pan- 
tomime and a few Navajo words John informed me that west of it 
there was a desert with neither grass nor water, which horses could 
not cross in a day, but we should go around the north end of it. 
About 4 P. M., Ave reached the first pool, and refilled our canteen and 
wicker-jug, as we must make a "dry camp" to-night. Turning to 
the left we reached the summit of the ridge in an houi-'s hard climbing, 
passed a dense thicket of pines, and came out upon a splendid pros- 
pect. The cliff we stand on slopes gently for a hundred yards, then 
drops suddenly by a rugged precipice, a thousand feet, to a plain 
which stretches north and west as far as I can see. But to the north 
a dim, blue range appears, and this side of it a dark depression with 
overhanging mist, which may be due to the great distance or the j)res- 
cnce of water. John indicates that there is a great cliff there, three 
times as high as the one before us, at the bottom of which there is 
much water running very fast, and deeper than over my head three 
times; but it is as far as we could travel from sun-up till the middle 
of the afternoon, and horses could not get up or down there for many 
days' travel east and west. This, of course, is the Colorado. 



FROM MO qui TO THE COLORADO. 289 

We skirted the precipice before us till we found a crevice and sort 
of rocky stairway, by which we got down to the plain, and thence 
traveled nearly straight west till dark, camping on a ridge with 
abundant grass, but no water. After supper John made a large bon- 
fire to signal the other Navajoes, but we received no answer. We 
were off by moonlight next morning — John being all impatience to 
overtake another party, he said w^as near; and in three hours reached 
them, but they proved to be part of a band of five families who had 
moved to a valley there. Here we find the only living spring and 
running stream on our route. The valley is bounded on the south by 
an abrupt cliff, not more than six hundred feet high, and on the 
north by gently sloping hills, rich in grass. This band are the 
wealthiest Navajoes I have yet seen, the five families having over a 
thousand sheep and goats, and at least two hundred horses. Men and 
women have each a good riding horse, rather elegantly caparisoned, 
with stylish bridles and spurs, and in their camp equipage I notice 
many handsome vessels and copper kettles. That they are of the 
aristocracy is further proved by the fact that they did not loaf about 
our camp, or ask for any thing; but received our advances with civil 
dignity, and sold us half a gallon of milk for fifty cents, like so many 
Christians. 

Their herds were just coming in to water: their horses galloping 
down the cliffs, the mounted Indian boys after them on slopes where 
an American would scarcely venture his horse at a walk, and the 
sheep and goats filling the vale with their bleatings, presented a scene 
to delight the heart of a pastoral poet. Two horses excited mv par- 
ticular admiration : a heavy-limbed dark bay mare, and a bright 
chestnut stallion, light and swift, who galloped around us a few times 
in provokingly showy style, his sleek coat glistening as if just from 
the hands of a skillful groom. The pair would have sold for six or 
seven hundred dollars in the States. 

Our horses needed recruiting before taking the desert, and we con- 
cluded to stop a day. Buying milk and dried antelope, we had quite 
a breakfast feast, after which the chief and family came and took a 
cup of coffee and a smoke with me. He was fluent in signs and Xa- 
vajo, a born egotist, and as inquisitive as the stage "Yankee." The 
sign-language proved insufficient for him to tell all he knew; so he 
went toward the cliff and shouted for Espafiol, and soon appeared a 
bright lad of about twenty, who saluted me in first-rate Spanish, act- 
ing thereafter as interpreter. He informed me he was captured in the 
beginning of the last war, and lived with the Mexicans six years, 
19 



290 WESTFAIN WILDS. 

Avhenoc liis Indian name. "The Spaniard;" tliat he had driven tcarn^ 
to Denver, and been on the railroad Ironi there to Cheyenne, and eon- 
sequently knew all about the Americans and their -ways. Tlie ehief 
then struck in : it was three days to the Monnoncy liogamJa, the first 
one Avherc we would cross the river; his horse could go it in two, but 
mine could not, for his feet would not stand the stones; his horse was 
better than my horse, and he could travel better than I ; there Avas 
sand all the way to jMormoney, no more springs, and only water-holes 
in the rock. In answer to my questions about the country, he drew 
a rude map in the sand with a sharp stick, and pointed out that it was 
nearly a day north for my horse to the big water, and two days south 
to the little water; that four days west they came together so (joining 
his fingers in the form of a V), and that three days north-west of that 
place was a great Monnoney casa, and that they were peo])le like me, 
with plenty to eat and many horses. 

This was the last Navajo settlement I visited, though they range 
down to the junction of the two Coloradocs ; and in the evening they 
made our camp merry with their lively conversation. Those who see 
the Indian only on the border know nothing of his real character; 
for it is only the lowest and meanest of the race that hang about the 
white settlements. And their consciousness of oddity in appearance 
makes them feel and look meaner. These belonged to a portion of 
the tribe numbering a thousand or more who do not agree to the 
treaty, or recognize the Agency party. They are quite friendly W'ith 
the whites, but have made one raid into Utah since the peace; and at 
John D. Lee's I learned that the chestnut stallion, which so excited 
my admiration, had been stolen from him. Two hundred years of 
war with the Spaniards was surely enough to confuse a people's moral 
perceptions, and cause them to consider " levying tribute " on the 
Avhites as a perfectly legitimate operation. 

As Ave gather up in the evening ready to start early, I find my 
Navajo Avhip and knife sheath — among the curiosities I had purchased 
— missing. I had not supposed that John knew any English, but 
when I pointed out the loss, his face grew dark and he muttered : 
"Damn Navajo, shteal mooch," and darted for a boy some fifty yards 
itway, Avhom he dragged into camp. A violent discussion ensued till 
the boy, with John's grip tightening on him, pointed to the cliff and 
muttered " Espanol." "Damn Espanol, shteal," said the guide, and 
ran up the cliff, where I heard another violent altercation, Navajo 
words mingling amusingly with English and Spanish oaths, and in a 
few minutes John returned waving the whip and sheath in triumph. 



FROM MOQUI TO THE COLORADO. 291 

The Xavajocs ^vill steal, but if you hire one he will guard your 
property against all the rest, iu which respect they are better than any 
other Indians. As I made ready for early sleep, Espanol and other 
lads came down on a visit, and sat about the fire smoking our tobacco 
and talking as socially with John as if nothing unusual had hap- 
pened. 

All day, June 27th, we traveled in a succession of zigzags. Two 
miles down the valley we found it narrowed to a rugged canon ; a 
little farther the caiion became a fearful gorge, into which sunlight 
never penetrated. The stream disappeared but a few rods below the 
spring, but a scant growth of sickly cottonwoods showed there was 
still a moist stratum below. At length we came to a rift in the side 
wall, about a rod wide, into which John led the way; there we en- 
tered on a steep and dangerous trail, up which we toiled some hun- 
dreds of feet to a level sandstone mesa. Across this a few miles, and 
then John, ahead of me, suddenly disappeared, and I hurried up to 
find him going down another narrow gorge, a mere rift in the rock 
not twenty- five feet wide. Down this a mile brought us out on a 
sandy plain; across this some five miles, and we came to a perpendic- 
ular cliff at least a thousand feet high. Skirting this westward, a 
few miles brought us to another gorge, by which we again reached the 
summit of the mesa, and before noon found a depression in the rock 
which had been filled by a late rain, and around it enough bunch- 
grass for a noon halt. There we were overtaken by a Navajo lad of 
about fifteen years, who had reached Moqui the day after we left, and 
followed our trail. He had several fine blankets, woven by his 
mother, and expected to trade them for a horse at the Mormoney casa. 
We made a " dry camp " for dinner, took an hour's grazing, and were 
just off when up galloped Espanol, also with a few blankets. He 
had concluded, an hour after we left, to go to the settlements ; because, 
as I suspect, he had noted the size of my provision sacks. We were 
now four in number, and traveled the rest of the day on a sandstone 
ridge tending west-north-west. Far as I could see, the country ap- 
peared to slope from this ridge northward and southward towards the 
two Coloradoes. 

About 5 P. M., we reached a regular water hole, to find it dry — to 
the dismay of the Navajoes. After a brief consultation, Espanol 
informed me they would hurry on down the slope south-west, and find 
water on the other side of the next valley ; and that I might follow 
their tracks, j^oco-poco-poco, (moderate walk). They galloped off, and 
were soon out of sight. I followed, and in an hour had lost their 



292 WESTERN WILDS. 

trail on a sandstone flat. Still I maintained the course toward a 
bright, green valley, which now appeared in the distance. I reached 
and crossed it, to find that the green was not from grass, as I had 
supposed, but from thrifty greasewood. There was not a spear of 
grass nor a drop of water, though the shade of green on the brush 
showed there was moisture below; and not a horse-track or a Navajo 
in sight. I began to feel very uncomfortable. The prospect of being 
lost in that place Avas decidedly unpleasant. I fired my gun two or 
three times, and shouted with all my might, but no response. De- 
termined finally to ascend the ridge west and overlook as much 
country as possible, I struck up a sloping hollow, and in half a mile 
came upon the three Navajoes sitting round a deep pool of. water and 
grinning in concert. The aborigines had witnessed all my embarrass- 
ment, and attempts to trace them below; but, true to the "noble 
instincts" of the race, preferred to sit and smile at me working out 
my own salvation. 

The horses could not get down in the water hole, so they had taken 
a blanket full of sand and made a dam across a little depression in 
the rock ; this \\q rapidly filled with our wicker-jugs, and so enabled 
our horses to drink. At 6 o'clock we were off again, and at 8 made 
a '•' dry camp." I soon went to sleep, but woke in an hour or so to 
find that the Navajoes had built an immense bonfire on a hill near by. 
This was soon answered by another, apparently twenty miles to the 
south. Our party then took torches of pine limbs and waving them 
as they Avent, built three more fires in a line a little north of west. 
The other party responded with three fires in a line apparently due 
west. Espanol translated this to mean that a considerable party of 
Navajoes -were half a day's ride south of us; that they would go 
straight on west, crossing the Little Colorado, and we should not meet 
them. 

Again we were off by moonlight, an hour ahead of the sun, and at 
10 A. M. reached the promised water-hole; but it contained only a 
little mud. Hastily consulting together, the Indians rubbed their 
fingers in the moist sand and held them up in the air. From this 
experiment they decided that the late rain had not extended to this 
region; that this pool had been exhausted but a day or two, and there- 
fore water would be plenty in a hole some fifteen miles north, which 
always held out a Aveek longer than this. Espanol told me to follow 
poco-poco as before; that as his horse Avas fresh, he Avould hurry on 
to the pool, and come back with two jugs full to meet me. I was 
soon alone, and had a weary ride of some twelve miles over a hot 



FROM MOQUI TO THE COLORADO. 293 

sand plain ; then met Espafiol with water enough for me and a hatful 
for my horse. They had decided to dine at this pool, which we found 
a few miles further on. 

In these wastes it is only in a few holes, worn by ancient boAvIders, 
or in-the more rare limestone " pockets," that one can find water ; and 
one unacquainted with the country might go within a rod of such a 
pool and never find it. The boys had only a few pounds of dried 
antelope and parched corn ; but all we had was in common, and we 
rested and feasted an hour. Thence we bore due west to come upon 
our former trail, and soon descended into a rich bunch-grass pasture 
at least ten miles wide. Far southward a mountain peak, its summit 
dazzling white with snow, rose in the form of a sharp cone; and 
Espafiol informed me that from the foot of that peak, there was much 
timber and game to the Little Colorado ; also, that w^hen the first 
snow fell on the lower hills, the antelope and other animals came 
across into this grassy country by thousands; then the Navajoes 
went on their fiill hunt, and used to meet the Apaches here loug ago, 
and had many fights. But now the Apaches have given up this sec- 
tion. We soon came to where skulls were quite numerous, sometimes 
with other fragments of human bones. My companions called atten- 
tion to the difference between those of the two tribes; and when Ave 
came upon five skulls in one place, two Navajo and three Apaches, 
Espafiol said with a grin : " Todoa muertos, pcro mas Apaches " (All 
killed, but the most Apaches). In the dry climate, on that sandy 
soil, the skulls may have lain there fifty years. 

AVe passed this and another sandstone ridge, on the west side of 
which we found a little depression with some five acres of good grass, 
and made a "dry camp." The dark cavity and blue mist over the 
Colorado had been visible all the afternoon, and John decided that 
we should descend the first cliff and go to the nearest spring before 
breakfast. AYe were off next morning by daylight, in a sweeping 
trot, and in an hour I heard from Espafiol, in the lead, the glad cry 
of " J5;/ monte! Grande agua!" and hurried up to the cliff; but at the 
first view recoiled. Before us was an abrupt descent of some 3,000 
feet; then a plain some three miles wide, led to an abrupt and narrow 
gorge, 2,000 feet deep, at the bottom of which rolled, in forbidding 
whirlpools and rapids, the red and yellow waters of the Colorado. 
Notwithstanding the great distance, so far did it lie below me that in 
some of the turns I could see the whole width of the stream. On the 
opposite side was a similar succession of cliffs, red and yellow sand- 
stone, and seeming even more rugged. How on earth were we ever 



294 



WESTERN WILDS. 



to get down ; or, once down, get out again? John smiled at my look 
of dismay, and indicated our route down a narrow gulch, breaking 
into the cliff near us, which it seemed to me certain destruction to 
enter. 

Off horses, girths tiglitened, and packs carefully examined ; tlien 
walking behind the animals, with lariats attached to the bridle and 
trailed over their backs, we ventured on the descent ; John in front 
shouting directions, the boy next repeating them, and Espaiiol third 
translating them to the writer, who cautiously brought up, or rather 

brought doion, the rear. I 
had made up my mind to this 
at first glance ; for if either 
horse should conclude to go 
with a ricochet, sweeping all 
below him, I thought two or 
three Indians could be better 
spared than one white man. 
The narrow path wound 
this way and that, to every 
point of the compass, reduc- 
ing the main incline of sev- 
enty degrees or more to a 
series with a slope of forty- 
five or less; at times away 
into the hill, and again on 
the outward turn, around the 
projecting peaks. The dan- 
ger is less than it seems; as 
if one fell, he would be caught 
by the next offset, but a few 
feet below. Sometimes we found a square offset in the path of two 
feet or so, when the horses would carefully drop the fore feet, having 
abundant room to catch, and bring the hind feet down with the 
caution of an acrobat. Two hours brought us to the jdain, when we 
heard a shout that seemed in mid air above our heads, and, looking 
up, saw three more Navajoes on the descent. They looked like some 
species of animal clinging to the cliff. 

We reached the promised spring and found no water. The Nava- 
joes insisted there was some in the gulch, so we hunted along it to- 
ward the mountain till we found a little moist sand and green, watery 
grass ; there we fell to with our tin-cups and butcher-knives and dug 




DOWN THE CLIFF. 



FROM MO QUI TO THE COLORADO. 



29^ 



several holes, which soon 
filled. The water was cool, 
but tasted like a mild infu- 
sion of Epsom salts. It 
made coffee, but all the su- 
gar it would dissolve did 
not sweeten it perceptibly. 
Along the cliif, in a north- 
east direction, every mile or 
so a section of the lower cliff 
seemed to leave it and bend 
back to join the upper one, 
and down these " benches " 
v/e slowly worked our way. 
When no more than a thou- 
sand feet above the stream 
we came upon an abrupt 
ridge, at least two thousand 
feet high, putting out to the 
river and completely shut- 
ting off the trail in that di- 
rection. Over this we must 
go. But first we climbed to 
a little cave at the foot of 
the perpendicular cliff, in 
which we found a " pocket " 
of cool, clear water. The 
path turned south-east, and, 
walking in front of our 
horses, we again commenced 
climbing. It was the worst 
job we had, and defies de- 
scription. Tlie Navajoes 
were an hour ahead of me 
wljcn I reached the sum- 
mit; but there was only one 
trail, and that a plain one. 
The opposite side of this 
ridge broke into a dozen 
pointed spurs. Out one, 
down a slight slope and into 




'CLIMBED TO A LITTLE CA\F IN \\HICU V^T, 
WATKli.'- 



296 WESTERN WILDS. 

a groove in the rock, I found the trail heading along back into the hol- 
low ; then out another ridge and back into the second hollow ; then 
back again around all the windings of the two hollows, and I found 
myself on the sharp end of the first ridge again, but in a groove five 
hundred feet below the one Avhere I had left it. Around this peak I 
followed to the south-west, then back and forward till I was dizzy, 
and more times than I could count. I came out at length upon a 
gentle slope, which brought me down to the plain at a point where the 
river was running nearly straight north. It was 3 P. M., and when 
I looked back upon the brow of the mountain, which we left at sun- 
rise, it seemed but a mile or two away. But it was at least 5,000 feet 
above us. 

We shouted and fired guns, but in vain. We saw the house on the 
opposite side, and people moving about, but they failed to take notice 
of us. John's father and two other Navajoes soon arrived, having 
killed a young antelope on the way. The meat at this season was 
very tough and hard, but if we were to stay here long, it must serve as 
our substitute for bread. We were nearly out of provisions; the sand 
flat contained nothing for our horses, and we must cross soon. So 
early next morning we commenced hunting for drift-timber, the boys 
climbing over the sharp ridge which rose a hundred feet high, just be- 
low us. A shout of surprise brought me to that side, and I saw the 
boys had discovered a boat cached against a rock and covered with 
brush, leaving only the bow visible. They rigged an arrangement to 
let me down with lariats, where they had climbed, and we all went 
to work on the boat. In three hours we had it out of the sand and 
brush and into the river; then the Navajoes were clamorous for me 
to make an immediate trial of crossing. But we found no oars. The 
boat was eighteen feet long, with places for four rowers ; it had two 
compartments, and on the stern was the name "Emma Dean." I 
concluded, correctly, as it proved, that it was one of Major Powell's. 
But all our search brought to light no oars. They w'ere cached so 
effectually that even Navajoes could not find them. I explained to 
the boys that only a mile or two below there was a cataract, and, to 
attempt the passage, we must haul the boat up stream at least a mile. 
I judged they wonld never get the boat around the first point, as the 
rocky headland overhung the river at a height of sixty feet or more, 
under which the bend threw the full force of the current in danger- 
ous wliirls. 

But they fell to work at once, and, by a most ingenious arrange- 
ment of lariats, brought the boat around. Meanwhile the two old 



FROM MOqUI TO THE COLORADO. 297 

men with their butcher-knives had hacked out rude oars from drift- 
wood, and all were clamorous for me to cross at once. They could 
not understand why a Melicano, who professed to understand rowing, 
should hesitate. But I did not like to risk it. The very aspect of 
the place friglitened me: the lofty walls inclosing a cailon six or seven 
thousand feet deep; the rocky face, red and scarred as if blasted by 
angry lightnings; the bare sand-plain, and the swift river roaring 
against projecting rocks, all looked very different from the placid Wa- 
bash and Ohio, where I learned rowing. A mile above, the up- 
per and lower cliff appeared to run together, with an offset of but a 
rod or two, and there the sheer descent from the plateau to the river 
was at least six thousand feet — almost perpendicular. I fixed my eye 
on pieces of drift-wood to measure the current; it was a little more 
than twenty minutes from the time they came in sight above till they 
entered the rapids below. How could I hoj^e to paddle a<;ross in less 
than twenty minutes? 

It was 1 P. M., and we had the boat at our camp and two rude oars. 
I took my coffee and sardines, chewed mescal reflectively for half an 
hour, and then proposed to the boys that we make our blankets into 
horse-collars and lariats into gears, and haul the boat across the point. 
The bend above, I had noticed, would throw it offshore, and with the 
aid of an eddy put us half way across. They objected decidedly : the 
horses would kick each other, and forty other evils to their property 
would result. Ignorant as they were of that element, they much pre- 
ferred taking it by water. Their own lives and limbs they were 
ready to risk ; but, said Espafiol, their horses were their wealth — did 
I ask them to go home poor? They had evidently adopted the sound 
philosophy that life without some property is not worth caring for. 
So to the river we betook ourselves, though to me the case looked 
hopeless. The bank was so steep that it could only be descended once 
in two or three hundred feet, and overgrown thickly nearly all the 
way with willows and thorny bushes, often twenty feet out into the 
water. The rope could not be dragged over these ; it had to be passed 
outside of them, taking advantage of a bare point to haul in, rest and 
make a fresh start. The four young fellows stripped and took to the 
water. I, in the same condition, sat astride the bow and shoved off 
shore. They would drag the boat to a convenient point, then take 
the rope in their mouths and pass themselves around the willows, 
holding by their hands with bodies in the water. A most ridiculous 
sight it would have been to one free from our solicitude : the naked 
barbarians plunging and scrambling in the river, the naked white 



298 WESTERN WILDS. 

mail, almost barbarous for the occasion, sitting astride the bow shout- 
ing in wretched Spanish and mixed Navajo, and sometimes phmging 
into the shore-mud or swift stream, where a little swimming had to be 
done. We would toil until steaming with sweat, and then into 
the river, which felt like ice-water. Nobody ever "catches cold" in 
this country, or I should have expected a musical case of asthma and 
catarrh as a result. In the middle of our work a woman came to 
the opposite bank, but the wind had risen to such a blast that we 
could not converse, and I could barely make out the words, " old 
man, to-morrow." 

At night the wind fell ; the woman reappeared, and shouted that in 
three days the " old man " would return ; if we had provisions it 
w^ould be safest to wait. Next morning our horses presented fine sub- 
jects for the study of anatomy. We must risk it; so, taking John 
and Espaiiol, I shoved off, and, taking advantage of an eddy, reached 
the opposite side only a mile below. Making our way to the house, 
I was greeted by the woman A\ith : 

" ISIy God, stranger, did you risk your life to swim that river?" 

An explanation and request for provisions resulted in the statement : 
" We are pretty thin ourselves." If we had put up a white signal 
Saturday, " the old gent would have come down at once, but he 
thought it was only Injins. Had gone Sunday with his other woman 
to the ranche near Kanab. These were the other woman's four chil- 
dren here ; had five of her own, making a right smart family of nine, 
'thout the old gent, but none of 'em big enough to risk the boat ; 
had no meat, and only ten pounds o' flour, but plenty of milk, butter, 
cheese and eggs — would they do?" I rather thought they would, and 
requested that about five pounds of each might be served up at once. 
She got me a splendid breakfast, and gave the Indians a plentiful 
supply, lending them also a kettle. She gave me the oars with which 
we could cross at will ; but to cross the horses we must wait till " Ma- 
jor Doyle," as she named the " old man," came back. 

Two days passed, and our horses were hungry enough to chew 
sand-burrs and desert weed. The days I spent at the cabin, talking 
to the Mormon woman ; the nights on the other side, sleeping or 
listening to the old man's stories about his people. They were all of a 
piece : the Navajoes had been very rich — they were now poor ; they 
were great warriors and good Indians. But the Utes were dogs, and 
the Apaches wolves and snakes, and the Zunis ground-hogs, and the 
Melicanoes never would have whipped the Navajoes if they had nf)t 
ijot other Indians to help them. In short, his harangue sounded so 



FROM MOqUI TO THE COLORADO. 299 

much like an ordinary Mormon sermon — all self-glorification and dis- 
paragement of every body else — that I got tired and dropped to sleep 
just as he was telling how great a warrior his fatlier was, and how 
many horses he once took from the Nocli hyli (Mexican towns). 

As Espanol rendered all this into voluminous Spanish, with many 
cross-questionings on my part and repetitions on his, to make sure I 
had the correct meaning, the conversation would have had its charms 
to the comparative philologist. Sitting- in the summer night by our 
camp-fire on the great river, named by the Spaniard three centuries 
ago, its current roaring against the rocks below us, part of the ro- 
mance of the sixteenth century seemed to return — that romance made 
real by the lingual contest between the Navajo and Spanish languages. 
It is scarcely possible there should be a greater contrast between any 
two tongues spoken by man — the one the oldest of living languages, 
and first heir to the Latin, no one knoM's how much older; soft, 
smooth, flowing, musical and rich in expressive inflections; the result 
of three thousand years of Roman, Moorish and Gothic cultivation ; 
with the wonderful and stately march of the Latin sentence, the soft 
lisp of the Moor and sonorous gravity of the Goth : the other, young- 
est born in the family of languages, with roots striking only in the 
shallovv' soil of hard and primitive dialects, probably not a thousand 
years old as a separate tongue ; without cultivation, without letters, 
with no abstract expressions, and names only for the material and 
tangible, a harsh alliance of the nasal and guttural, the speech of 
barbarous mountaineers. Yet here they are found on the same soil, 
struggling' for the mastery — the Spanish an enduring monument to 
the energy and bravery of the Castilians of the sixteenth century, who 
overran and subdued more than half of the New World. Every time 
a Navajo says agxia instead of toli he bears unwitting and involuntary 
tribute to the hardy vigor and bold intellect of that wonderful race, 
Mdio carried their arms and arts through these remote regions. 

On the other side we talked at random, without need of an inter- 
preter. Mrs. Doyle, as the lady called herself, was a thorough 
frontier woman, and informed me that "Our old gent had had 
eighteen wives. Two left him, one went to the States, and another to 
Montana, and when McKean got up such a bobbery he (Doyle) divided 
his property among them that were living. Old gent had had fifty-two 
children, most of 'em living; had been through New Mexico, and all 
that country, with the INIormon battalion, and had been a big man in 
the Church, but was now here on a mission, tending to this ferry. 
The Mormons will establish a fine ferry here and a good road, as they 



300 WESTERN WILDS. 

intend to settle all the good country on the other side, and are now 
settling into Arizona as fast as they can. Will settle Potato Valley 
first, then down in the White and San Francisco Mountains," etc. 

Her own history was both sad and interesting. She was born in 
Brighton, England, and reared in London. Her folks were well-to-do 
Englisli, and signs of early education and refinement showed plainly 
through the rough coating of a frontier and Mormon life. She had 
embraced Mormonism at the age of twenty, and come at once to 
Utah (sixteen years before) in the first liand-cart company. They 
got through with little suffering. It was the company after 
that suiFered so. She "had gone in second to Major Doyle," 
by express request of Brigham Young. They had pioneered 
all the new towns south. Had a fine place in Harmony, and 
sold it for $4,000, when ordered here on a mission. She was living 
here, a hundred miles from the nearest settlement, in the extreme of 
hardship, and her folks begging her to come to them. And now, at 
the end of all these sacrifices, a growing skepticism was evident in her 
talk. It was plain that she doubted seriously whether all this had not 
been vain — worse than useless. She firmly believed in polygamy, she 
said, when she came a girl from England, but not now ; there was so 
much evil in it that it could not be from God. 

Four days had passed, and still no "old gent." The Indians lost 
heart, and John came to request a nelsoass — my certificate that he 
had seen me safe across the Colorado. I furnished them all the bread 
and cheese Mrs. Doyle could spare, and at noon they started to return. 
I watched them for hours, as they slowly climbed the red cliffs, and 
with a feeling near akin to sorrow, for the simple aborigines had been 
more company to me than I could have believed possible. It was my 
last sight of the Navajoes — a most interesting race of barbarians, and 
the only Indians for whom I could ever feel any personal friendship. 
In three hours after their departure " Major Doyle" returned, and we 
crossed my horse without difficulty. The method pursued is for one 
to row the skiff, while another holds up the horse's head by the bridle, 
the animal swimming just behind the boat. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



A STAETLING INTERVIEW. 



The hot July clay drew to a close, and my host and I sat before 
his log-cabin and gazed upon the red hills, which took on a pleasing 
softness in the light of the declining sun. The view was one for the 
poet, the 
painter, and 
the novel- 
ist. The 
lofty mount- 
ains M-hich 
wall in the 
Colorado, 
here gave 
back a few 
rods from 
the water's 
edge. From 
the mount- 
ain sum- 
mits, forty 
miles north- 
ward, Pah- 
reah Creek 
plunged 
down by a 
scries of 
\v i 1 d c a s- 
cades into a 
deep gorge, 
which, me- 
andering across the plateau, grew into a rugged canon, and here, at 
its junction with the Colorado, widened its granite jaws to inclose a 
small plat of level land. On all sides rose the red and yellow hills, 
by successive "benches," to a plateau five thousand feet above; on 

(301) 




MOUTU OF PAHREAH CREEK, NEAR JOHN D. LEE'S. 



302 WESTERN WILDS. 

that again rctl buttcs rose thousands of feet higher, their wind-worn 
and polished summits ever inaccessible to man, and barely brushed by 
the bald eagle in his loftiest flights. 

To this little glen, the only cultivable land to be found for hun- 
dreds of miles along the Colorado, there were three entrances : by a 
hidden and rocky trail up Pahrcah Canon, leading over the summit 
and down the Sevier River; by the way we came in, and by a narrow 
track leading up to the Kanab Plateau, and thence south-west around 
the point of the mountain. A quick eye could command every ap- 
proach ; a quick hand could deal destruction upon all comers if so dis- 
posed, or a fugitive in a few minutes reach concealed places where a 
regiment of soldiers could not find him. It seemed a place by nature 
fitted for the retreat of the hunted — for an ^'old man of the mount- 
ains" who had nothing to expect from the world but its hostility. 
And such, in solemn truth, it was. 

A surprise of no ordinary kind was in store for me. I had grown 
well acquainted with "Major Doyle," as his wife called him, and in 
two days' intercourse wo, had learned considerable of each other's 
views and experiences. Like many Mormons with whom I have 
stopped he had "a word of prayer" after supper; asked fervently for 
God's blessing on " Thy Servant Brigham," and that " Thou would'st 
turn away the hearts of the Lamanites from making war on thy 
people," besides referring warmly to "our making the desert blossom 
as the rose ; " and not long after in conversation referred to the Gov- 
ernment's dealings with the Indians as a "d — d shame, that hadn't 
ought to be allowed." But this sort of incongruity is so common in 
Utah that I did not notice it. At supper, on the t lird of July, he 
grew very animated while telling of some horses he had lost, and how 
they were recovered from the thieves; and used this sentence :" The 
sheriff said, 'These are Lee's horses — I know 'em,'" "Lee's!" said 
I, "Does he live near here?" — for they had told me at Defiance that 
I ought to go by Lee's Ferry. My host hesitated. I fancied there 
was a faint flush on his weather-beaten face, as he replied : 

" That's what they sometimes call me." 

''AVhat!" exclaimed I; "I thought your name was Doyle." 

"So it is — John Doyle Lee." I almost jumped out of my chair 
with astonishment and confusion. Here I was the guest of, and in 
familiar conversation with, this most notorious of all notorious Mor- 
mons—the reputed planner and leader in the Mountain Meadow 
Massacre ! My confusion was too great to be concealed, and I blun- 
dered out: "I have often heard of you." 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 303 

"And heard nothing that was good, I reckon." This, with some 
bitterness of tone. He then continued, speaking rapidly : 

"Yes, I told my wives to cull me Doyle to strangers ; they've been 
kicking up such a muss about polygamy, McKean and them, and 
I'm a man that's had eighteen wives; but now that the Supreme 
Court has decided that polygamy's part of a man's religion, and the 
law's got nothin' to do with it; it do n't make no difference, I reckon." 

Of courscvthis was only a subterfuge, but I could not have ventured 
to recur to the real reason of his being located in this wild place, if 
he had not approached the subject himself soon after. Then I hinted 
as delicately as possible, that if it were not disagreeable to him, I 
should like to hear "' the true account of that affair which had been 
the cause of his name being so prominent." It had grown dark mean- 
while, and this gave him, I thought, more freedom in his talk. (It is 
to be noted that he did not know my name or business.) Clearing his 
throat nervously, he began, with many short stops and repetitions : 

"Well, I suppose you mean that — well, that Mountain Meadow af- 
fair? Well, I'll tell you what is the exact truth of it, as God is my 
Judge, and the why I am out here like an outlaw — but I'm a goin' to 
die like a man, and not be choked like a dog — and why my name's 
published all over as the vilest man in Utah, on account of what 
others did — but I never will betray my brethren, no, never — which it 
is told for a sworn fact that I violated two girls as they were kneel- 
ing and begging to me for life ; but, as God is my Judge, and I expect 
to stand before Him, it is all an infernal lie." 

He ran off this and much more of the sort with great volubility; 
then seemed to grow more calm, and went on: 

"Now, sir, I'll give you the account exactly as it stood, though for 
years I've rested under the most infamous charges ever cooked up on 
a man. I've had to move from point to point, and lost my property, 
when I might have cleared it up any time by just saying who was 
%vho. I could have proved that I was not in it, but not without 
bringing in other men to criminate them. But I wouldn't do it. 
They had trusted in me, and their motives were good at the start, bad 
as the thing turned out. 

" But about the emigrants. They was the worst set that ever crossed 
the plains, and they made it so as to get here just when we was at 
war. Old Buchanan had sent his army to destroy us, and M'C had 
made up our minds that they should not find any spoil. We had been 
making preparations for two years, drying wheat and caching it in the 
mountains ; and intended, when worst come to worst, to burn and 



304 



WESTERN WILDS. 




HEAD OF THE GKAND CASON. 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 305 

destroy every thing, and take to the mountains and fight it odt guer- 
rilla style. And I tell you this people Avas all hot and enthusiastic, 
and just at that time these emigrants came. 

" Now they acted more like devils than men; and just to give you 
an idea what a hard set they was : when Dr. Forney gathered up the 
children two years after — fifteen, I believe, they was — and sent word 
back to their relatives, they sent word that they did n't want 'em, 
and wouldn't have any thing to do with 'em. And that old Dr. 
Forney treated the children like dogs, hammerin' 'em around with 
his big cane. 

"The company had quarreled and separated east of the mountains, 
but it was the biggest half that come first. They come south of Salt 
Lake City just as all the men was going out to the war, and lots of 
women and children lonely. Their conduct was scandalous. They 
swore and boasted openly that they helped shoot the guts out of 
Joe Smith and Hyrum Smith, at Carthage, and that Buchanan's 
whole army was coming right behind them, and would kill every 
G — d d — n Mormon in Utah, and make the women and children 

slaves, and They had two bulls, which they called one 

' Heber ' and the other ' Brigham,' and whipped 'em thro' every town, 
yelling and singing, blackguarding and blaspheming oaths that 
M'ould haV'C made your hair stand on end. At Spanish Fork — it can 
be proved — one of 'em stood on his wagon-tongue, and swung a 
pistol, and swore that he helped kill old Joe Smith, and was ready 
for old Brigham Young, and all sung a blackguard song, ^Oh, we've 
got the ropes and we'll hang old Brigham before the snow flies,' and 
all such stuff. Well, it was mighty hard to bear, and when they got 
to where the Pahvant Indians was, they shot one of them dead and 
crippled another. But the worst is coming. 

"At Corn Creek, just this side of Fillmore, they poisoned a spring 

and the flesh of an ox that died there, and gave that to the Indians, 

and some Indians died. Then the widow Tonilinson, just this side, 

had an ox poisoned at the spring, and she thought to save the hide 

and tallow; and rendering it up, the poison got in her face, and 

swelled it up, and she died. This roused every body. Well, they 

came on down the road, and with their big Missouri whips would 

snap off the heads of chickens and throw 'em into their wagons; and 

when a widow. Missis Evans, came out and said: 'Don't kill my 

chickens, gentlemen, I'm a poor woman,' one of 'era yelled, ' Shut up you 

G — d d — d Mormon, or I'll shoot you ! ' Then her sons and all her folks 

got out with guns, and swore they'd have revenge on the whole outfit. 
20 



306 WESTERN WILDS. 

"By»this time the Indians had gathered from all directions, and 
overtook 'cm at Mountain Meadow. They planned it to crawl down 
a narrow ravine and get in close, and make a rush altogether. But 
one I'ool Indian fired too soon and gave the alarm. This spoilt the 
plan, but all in reach fired, and killed, .well, five or six men. Then 
a sort o' siege began. The men inside did well — the best they could 
have done. They got the wagons eorraled and dug rifle-pits. The 
Indians could not hit any more of the people, but shot nearly all 
their oxen and some horses. I believe it was after three or four 
days' siege that I went to the Indians and tried to persuade them 
away ; for our folks had had a council, and while I said, ' Persuade 
the Indians away, the other brethren said, *Let the Indians punish 
them.' I said to the Indians ' You've killed more of them than died 
of your men, and you've harassed them a good deal, killed their 
stock, and punished them enough — now let them go.' But they said 
these white men were all bad, and they would kill all. Jacob Ham- 
lin, the agent, you know, was away from home then, and I had n't 
much control over the Indians. We was weak then in that section 
to what we are now, and did not really have the upper hand of the 
Indians; and maybe, if we interfered with 'em, it would cause trouble 
with us. I heard women inside begging and praying, and saying 
that if the Mormons knew how they were situated they would come 
and help, no matter if some had treated 'em badly. And they begged 
some of the felloAvs to break out and go and get help. Then I run 
a big risk to get inside the corral. It was pitch dark, and I could see 
the line of fire from the guns, and the balls whistled all about me. 
One cut my shirt in front, and another my sleeve, and I could not get 
through. But I went back, and was pretty near getting the Indians 
all right, and would have succeeded fully, but then come the thing 
that spoiled all. 

" Three of the emigrants had broken out of the corral and gone 
back for help; and next day met some of our boys at a spring. Well, 
I don't excuse our men — they were enthusiastic, you know, but their 
motives were good. They knew these emigrants at once; one of them 
was the man that insulted widow Evans, another the one that swung 
his pistol and talked so at Spanish Fork. The boys fell on them at 
sight, shot one dead and wounded another. But the two of them got 
back to the company. 

" Then came another council, and all our men said : * We can't let 
'em go now ; the boys has killed some, and it won't do to let one get 
through alive, or here they'll come back on us with big reinforce- 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 307 

ments.' And, to be sure^ why should we risk any thing, and maybe 
have a fuss with the Indians, to save people who done nothing but 
abuse us? But I still said, 'Let'em go; they've been punished 
enough.' 

" I never will mention any names, or betray my brethren. Those 
men were God-fearing men. Their motives were pure. They knelt 
down and prayed to be guided in council. But they was full of zeal. 
Their zeal was greater than their knowledge. 

" I went once more to the Indians, and begged them to kill only the 
men. They said they would kill every one; then I told them I would 
buy all the children, so all the children was saved. There was not 
over fifteen white men actually went in with the Indians, and I don't 
believe a single emigrant was actually killed by a white man. 

"An express had been sent to Brigham Young at first to know what 
to do, and it is a pity it didn't get back; for those enthusiastic men loill 
obey counsel. The president sent back orders, and told the man to 
ride night and day, by all means to let the emigrants go on; to call oif 
the Indians, and for no Mormons to molest them. But the thing was 
all over before the express got back to Provo. There was about eighty 
fighting men that was killed. I don't know how many women, though 
not many. All the children was saved. The little boy that lived with 
us cried all night when he left us, and said he'd come back to us as 
soon as he got old enough. Old Forney, when he come for 'em, 
got all in his tent and would not let 'em visit or say good-bye to any 
body. One run away and hid under the floor of the house, and For- 
ney dragged him out and beat him like a dog with his cane. They 
say he murdered the baby on the plains, because it was sickly and 
troublesome. 

" It is told around for a fact that I could tell great confessions, and 
bring in Brigham Young and the Heads of the Church. But if I was 
to make forty confessions, I could not bring in Brigham Yoiuig. His 
counsel was: 'Spare them, by all means.' But I am made to bear the 
blame. Here I am, old, poor, and lonely, away down in this place — 
carrying the sins of my brethren. But if I endure, great is my reward. 
Bad as that thing was, I will not be the means of bringing troubles on 
my people; for, you know yourself, that this people is a misrepresented 
and cried-down community. Yes, a people scattered and peeled, whose 
blood was shed in great streams in Missouri, only for worshiping God 
as he was revealed to them ; and if at the last they did rise up and 
shed blood of their enemies, I won't consent to give 'em up." 
, Such was the remarkable story told me by Major John Doyle Lee. I 



308 WESTERN WILDS. 

will not now anticipate my story by pointing out its truth and errors; 
for in later cliapters I give the facts, and have here set down but a 
small part of our conversation — only such as I could remember beyond 
doubt, and jot down at my first halting-place next day. Lee talked 
over the whole history of his life, before and since the massacre. 
After that event he continued to reside in Harmony, was a leader 
in all public affairs there, and often entertained Brigham Young 
when the latter visited that section. Thence he was ordered " on 
amission" to establish new settlements further into the wilderness; 
and obeyed, as do all good Mormons, without a murmur, selling his 
fine place in Harmony for four thousand bushels of wheat. From 
Cedar City to Santa Clara, and thence to Kanab and Mangrum's set- 
tlement, he had continued to remove, and was finally sent down here 
to maintain a ferry and act as interpreter and mediator among the 
Indians. He spoke the tongues of all adjacent tribes, and had their 
good will. He dwelt at some length on his liking for the boy whom 
he had saved from the massacre and taken to live with him ; and re- 
lated with pride the boy's promise to come back as soon as he got old 
enough. Unfortunately for his own good, that boy, now a man, did 
return. He became a noted desperado, under the name of Idaho Bill, 
and is now serving out a long sentence in the Utah penitentiary! 

Misfortune followed the poor children to the last. Mormon ac- 
counts say that eighteen were saved alive. Of these Jacob Hamlin 
says that one was captured by, or went off with, the Navajo Indians, 
and may now be among them ; another was killed " because he knew too 
much," and the youngest, a mere baby, died on the way to the States, 
after being recovered by Dr. Jacob Forney, Indian Agent in 1859. 
Of the fifteen who reached St. Louis few could find any relatives, and 
the remainder were sent to the Orphan Asylum, and in time scattered 
thence all over the South-west, knowing of their families only by hear- 
say or vague remembrance. John Calvin Sorrow, the only one who 
remembered the massacre, lives somewhere in Arkansas ; the girl who 
was supposed to be his sister, is married to a resident of East Ten- 
nessee. With no family ties and no parental care, it is not surprising 
that some of the survivors have done badly. 

Midnight had come before we finished our talk, and turned in to- 
gether upon a straw tick beside the house. Little did I think that 
three years from that time I was to see Lee a prisoner before the 
Federal courts; for, like all old residents of Utah, I had long aban- 
doned hope that the Government could be spurred into doing any 
thing to execute justice in that Territory. Even then I had no doubt 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 309 

of his guilt, though I could, and can now, see extenuating circum- 
stances. John D. Lee was a born fanatic. Of good size and physical 
frame, with light hair, fiery blue eye, gross composition and warm red 
blood, he was also a sensualist. His high but narrow forehead, his 
education — first as an intense sectarian, accustomed to destroy the 
spirit of Scripture by twisting the letter ; then as a Mormon — made 
him a thorough casuist; so thorough that he deceived himself first of 
all. The man who deliberately refuses to look at the doubtful points 
in his religion, from that hour ceases to be intellectually honest. 
Thence, by successive steps, he often convinces himself that any thino- 
is right which helps his church, and compounds for gross indulgence 
in one direction by religious zeal in another. Mormonism aggra- 
vated all of Lee's faults; it gave free rein to his all-engrossing lust, and 
spurred his savage temper on to deeds of blood. In Ohio he would 
have been a sour Puritan, compounding for little tricks in trade or 
big fits of passion, by austerity in religion and extreme decorum. In 
Utah he became what I have described. As said by a Mormon elder, 
later an apostate, who had known him long and well: "John D. Lee 
is a man who would divide his last biscuit with the traveler upon the 
desert, and cut that traveler's throat the next hour if Brigham Young 
said so." 

Independence Day, 1872, I celebrated by a ride of thirty-five miles. 
Bidding the Lees good-bye at an early hour, I slowly ascended the 
winding trail which leads to the great plateau between the Colorado 
and the Wasatch. Here this plateau runs to a narrow point, there 
being but little more than room for a wagon between the cliiF on one 
side and the river gorge on the other. Here, at the head of the long 
canon, the Powell party had their rendezvous; they were now in 
Kanab for a midsummer's rest, but their boats were moored here. 
From the bridle path I looked straight down the river, which ap- 
peared to soon loose itself between red battlements. On both sides 
rose the water-worn walls, for two thousand feet nearly perpendicular, 
the lines on every foot of their faces showing the successive points at 
which the water had stood during all the countless thousands of years 
in which it slowly fashioned this passage for itself. When it ran in a 
shallow channel along the present summit, all the Colorado Basin was 
a region of lakes and marshes, with here and there an island of firm 
earth, covered by dense forests, and rich in matted grasses and flowers. 
Then the mist from this inland sea washed the western base of Pike's 
Peak, and the Colorado descended by a series of cascades, through a 
fall of four thousand feet, into the head of the Gulf of California. 



310 WESTERN WILDS. 

A little later, and it had cut so deep as to drain the shall OAver lakes 
and marshes; then all the interior between the AVasatch and Rocky 
Mountains was covered by dense forests, lively with game. A little 
later, and the regions became the abode of strange semi-civilized races. 
Their remains are found over an area of three hundred thousand 
square miles. Still the river went on cutting deeper and deeper, 
draining the last reservoirs, and opening a way for the springs to dis- 
charge at lower points ; and slowly sucking the life out of its own 
basin. It cut down through sandstone to limestone, through lime- 
stone to granite, and deep into the granite, till the former fertile vales 
were changed to barren plateaus ; the semi-civilized races vanished, 
leaving few survivors, and the " backbone of the continent " became 
a desert, with only here and there an oasis. 

From the point where I reached the plateau, it slowly widens west- 
ward for a hundred miles, the mountains continuing due west, and the 
river bearing south-west. Fifteen miles south-westward, over a desert 
and along the foot of the mountains, brought me to the first gulch con- 
taining water and grass, where I rested till 2 P. M. Thence over 
another barren mesa, twenty miles brought me to Jacob's Pool, where 
the pasture lands begin. The pool is a clear, cold spring, at the head 
of a gulch, sending out a stream the size of one's wrist, which runs 
two or three hundred yards down the plain before it disappears. The 
lare-est mountain streams in this section never run more than a mile or 
two on to the plain. In some places a channel can be traced nearly 
to the Colorado. The Wasatch here has an average elevation of five 
thousand feet above this plateau, and there are but three places in a 
hundred miles where horses and footmen can get down through side 
gulches to the river. 

John D. Lee had preempted the pool, and had his wnfe Rachel liv- 
ing there in a sort of brush-tent, making butter and cheese from a 
herd of twenty cows. She and her son and daughter of sixteen and 
eighteen years were the sole inhabitants, no neighbors within less 
than forty miles either way. Lee's other wives were scattered about 
on ranches farther north ; four at Mangrum's settlement and two oth- 
ers at Harmony. One left him, and lives at Beaver; another went to 
ISIontana with a Gentile, and still another is in the States, "living 
fancy, I reckon," said the wife at the river, who gave me this informa- 
tion. There was no room in the tent, and Mrs. Lee gave me a straw 
tick out doors — luxury enough for one who had slept with only a 
blanket between him and the ground for many weeks ; and at this 
oasis I rested a day and a half. 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 311 

Thence, on the afternoon of the 6th, I rode eighteen miles nearly 
straight west to the first water, and encamped for the night in a rich 
bunch-grass pasture, dotted with scrubby pines. After bread and tea, 
I hoppled my horse and slept till near daylight, then took a hasty 
breakfast and canteen of water and was off for Navajo Wells, thirty 
miles ahead, and the first place where water could be had. I traveled 
along the original Navajo trail from the Rio Grande to Southern Ne- 
vada ; and early in the day commenced the ascent of the Buckskin, a 
low range of partially-wooded hills, putting out across the plateau 
nearly to the Colorado. All over this I found good blue-grass, which 
is very rare every-where in the Rocky Mountains. The grass on the 
plains here consists of two species of bunch-grass — the common yel- 
low and the white-topped varieties. But neither forms a sod or 
sward, or gives more than a faint tinge of green to the landscape. 
My general direction for the day was north-west, working toward the 
Utah line, though the road at times wound about to every point. West 
of the Buckskin was a singular flood plain some six miles wide, with 
rich soil, but no moisture, and nearly destitute of grass. I had trav- 
eled till 3 P. M., looking closely for Navajo Wells for the last few 
miles, when I emerged from a rocky ridge scantily clothed with 
piiions, upon another flood plain, and was at once aware that I had 
missed the Wells. But soon an Indian overtook me, whom I hailed 
with "■ Toh, agua, water P' using the three languages spoken in this re- 
gion ; but he understood neither. Then I had recourse to pantomime, 
when he rejoined, "Pah to wicH-up" and directed me to follow. Two 
miles back and half a mile from the trail was the water-hole, and near 
by the camp of his tribe, a horribly filthy and repulsive gang of some 
forty savages. A hole in the sand contained the only water, which 
was lukewarm, slimy and full of nasty black creatures ; but it was 
that or nothing, and my horse drank it under protest. For his court- 
esy I divided my stock of meat and cheese with the chief, who be- 
came very communicative, preferred a request for tobacco, suggested 
in pantomime that I camp there for the night, and asked how long 
since I left the Navajoes. They had at first sight recognized my rig 
as Navajo, for eveiy tribe in the mountains knows the handiwork of 
every other. The degraded natives of this region are known as the 
Pi-Utes, the Pi-Edes and the Lee-Biches, and are the very lowest of 
the race. In summer they ' fare sumptuously on pinon nuts, roots, 
grass-seeds and white sage ; but in winter they are reduced to bugs, 
lizards, grubs and ground-mice, occasionally assisted by donations 
from the settlements, or the flesh of such Mormon stock as die of 



312 



WESTERN WILDS. 



disease. They iire totally devoid of skill in any respect, and when 
furnished with hoards ean not construct a shelter from the rain. 

Eight miles farther I camped for the night ; was off, by reason of 
the cold, an hour before daylight, and rode into Kanab just as the 
first rays of sunshine were streaming over the rugged gaps of the east- 
ern mountains. Kanab sits back in a beautiful cove in the mountains, 

something 
like a cres- 
cent in shape, 
the mount- 
ain peaks 
east and west 
of the town 
putting out 
southward to 
the Arizona 
line. All the 
land within 
the cove ap- 
pears rich, 
and the town 
site is irri- 
crated from a 
considerable 
creek running 
out of a nar- 
row gulch. 
By direction 
of the first 
person met, I 
went to Ja- 
cob Hamlin's 
house, where 
I had two 

days' rest. I was most fortunate in my selection. Three of Major 
Powell's men were here, waiting for his arrival from Salt Lake City. 
Here, also, I found Mr. and Mrs. Thomson, of Major Powell's party, 
so altogether we had a very delightful little Gentile society in this 
Mormon stronghold. Hamlin, who is a Church Agent of Indian Af- 
fairs, struck in on the subject of Mormonism the first meal; but as I 
was once more in the land of beef and biscuit, hot coffee and other 




"THE MTTLE SAVAGES FIXED AN UNWINKING GAZE UPON ME. 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 



313 



luxuries, I could stand up to any amount of argument. We had it 
hot for two days, but parted friends. Kanab is quite new, and has 
but two hundred inhabitants. To Mr. and Mrs. Thomson I am under 
many obligations, not only for writing conveniences, but for many 
hours of social enjoyment; and as for the Powell party generally, my 
meeting them here was a rare piece of good fortune. 

For the first time 
in my life I found it 
convenient to drop 
my name while mak- 
ing this trip. The 
Saints might have a 
prejudice against me, 
so I introduced my- 
self to Lee by my 
middle name, " Han- 
son," and by the same 
title traveled to Salt 
Lake City. There 
was something gro- 
tesque in " Mr. Han- 
son" and "Major 
Doyle " meeting in 
the wilderness, when 
the one was the 
Mountain Meadow's 
butcher and the other 
the Gentile writer 
who had done his 
best to make him no- 
torious. 

Striking south-west 
from Kanab, in a few miles I very nearly ran over a group of young 
Pi-Edes, crouched down in a piiion thicket. The little savages fixed 
an unwinking gaze upon me, but never stirred or spoke, their Indian 
nature forbidding expression either of surprise, pleasure or fear at 
sight of me. It is doubtful if they felt either. A little beyond I saw 
their mother, or older sister, gathering grass-seeds — the summer work 
of these squaws — naked as new-created Eve, but hardly so handsome 
as Milton paints our great mother. By her lay her wicker-basket, 
which she had dropped at my approach, to retreat behind the bush, 




A PI-EDE CERES. 



314 WESTERN WILDS. 

whether from fear or modesty was hard to say. At dark 1 
reached Pipe Springs, where is a ranche kept by Bishop Windsor and 
one of his families. I found the Bishop a good kmdlord, and chatty, 
agreeable companion. The spring from which the place takes its 
name sends down a large stream of cold, clear water, which the Bishop 
leads in stone troughs through his houses, using one of them for a 
cheese factory. He milks eighty cows, and makes the business a 
splendid success. All this section is rich in pasture, but has so little 
arable land thai most of the few inhabitants have to import their 
flour, paying for it in butter and cheese. Even with this large stream 
the Bishop can cultivate but fifteen acres, the porous, sandy soil re- 
quiring five times as much irrigation as the land around Salt Lake 
City. The place is just outside the rim of the Great Basin, and the 
country about of the same level as that within. From the foot of the 
mountain range along which we travel the surface slopes a very little 
toward the Colorado, but near that river rises again to a height above 
that along the road. 

Thence the next afternoon I traversed a sandy desert for twenty-five 
miles, reached the first pool and took supper, then rode nine miles 
further by dark, and made a '^ dry camp " in a low, grassy valley be- 
tween two wooded hills. Thence I reached Gould's Ranche (ten 
miles) in time for a late breakfast and another hot argument on poli- 
tics. The Church was then straining every nerve to get Utah ad- 
mitted as a State, the Gentiles fighting the proposition with the bit- 
terness of desperation, and all Southern Utah was hot over the 
matter. 

That day I mistook the road, but did not regret my error when it 
led me to the beautiful hamlet of Virgin City. The neat, white adobe 
houses were almost hidden in forests of peach, fig, apple, and mul- 
berry trees ; the climate rivaled that of Southern California, and dam- 
sons, apricots, and pears also abounded. All that part of Mormondom 
south of the rim of the Great Basin is called Dixie, and produces cot- 
ton, wine and figs. And here I first began to be conscious of the 
oddity of my dress. At Defiance, to avoid being too conspicuous 
among the Indians, I had dressed in a buckskin suit, with spangled 
Mexican jacket, stout moccasins handsomely worked, beaded scarf, 
and flowered calico head-wrap; so, at a distance, I was every-where 
taken for an Indian. Marriage with Indian women is a strong point 
in the religion of these Southern Mormons, and the men were de- 
lighted with my description of the grace, beauty, and general desira- 
bleness of Navajo girls, as they expect to form a close alliance with 



A STARTLING INTERVIEW. 315 

that tribe. Jacob Hamlin had visited all the tribes in Northern 
Arizona, making treaties between the Indians and the Church. 

My next journey was to Toquerville, where I stopped with Bishop 
Isaac C. Haight, another leader in the Mountain Meadow Massacre, 
and a prominent Mormon. Ripe figs, just plucked from the tree, 
formed part of our dessert. The narrow valley is very fertile; all 
around are yellow hills and red deserts. A leisurely journey of a 
day brought me thence to Kanarra, in the rim of the Great Basin. 
In the south end of town the Avater flows towards the Colorado; in 
the north end into the Basin. There I had my first sickness on the 
trip, as did my horse. AVe had stood adversity ; prosperity ruined us. 
I indulged too freely in fruit, and he in Lucerne hay. There was no 
doctor in town, so I worried it through on hot ginger and "Dixie 
wine;" in three days was able to ride, and proceeded by easy stages 
to Parowan, in Iron County. But six hundred miles through the 
Indian country had worn out my horse, and on the 16th instant I 
''ranched him" twenty miles south of Beaver, and set out for that 
place in the wagon of a Mormon farmer. Some five miles on the 
road — when we were on the Beaver "divide" — a cold rain set in and 
continued for four hours, changing to something very near sleet. The 
Mormon family and myself suffered greatly with cold. The seasons 
at Beaver are very late, and wheat harvest does not begin till in 
August. Little Salt Lake lay a few miles west of our route, on the 
"divide." Having passed the ridge, I walked down the eight-mile 
slope to Beaver, which I reached at dark, and was soon warm and 
happy in the house of a hospitable Gentile. 

Beaver had been revolutionized by the development of mines. 
Gentiles were to be seen every-where, and a military post had been 
established near town. Thence by stage it was two hundred and fifty 
miles to " Zion ; " and I Avas pleased to recognize, in the first driver, 
my old friend Will Kimball, who drove a team across the Plains in 
the train with me in 1868. Kimball's father was one of the many 
arrested the previous winter on charges relating to the conduct of the 
Mormon militia in the rebellion of 1857, but was released with a 
hundred and twenty others, when the Supreme Court reversed Judge 
McKean's rulings. In the progress of Utah affairs, nearly all of the 
family left by old Heber Kimball have become pretty good Gentiles. 
This seems to be the course of all such delusions Avhich do not end in 
blood. 

I halted for a day's rest at Fillmore, the old Territorial capital, 
a hundred and seventy-five miles south-west of Salt Lake, and quite a 



M6 WESTERN WILDS. 

beautiful town. Several wealthy Mormons reside here, in elegant 
brick and stone houses, and the place is old enough for all the shade 
trees and shrubbery to have attained a good growth. Some thirty 
miles Avest of Fillmore is a remarkable mountain peak, or rather 
round heap of cinders and lava, five hundred feet high. It is broken 
square across by a gulch with almost perpendicular sides, at the bottom 
of which is a spring that is coated with ice around the edges for eleven 
months in the year. Tlie altitude is no higher than that of Fillmore, 
but the sun never shines in the gorge, and snow lies on the inner slopes 
all the year. 

Thence two days' slow staging brought me to "Zion," which I 
ieached on the evening of July 21st, exactly four months from the 
day I left St. Louis for a tour through the Southern Territories. In 
that time I had traveled fourteen hundred miles by rail, six hundred 
by stage, three hundred by military wagon, two hundred on foot, and 
six hundred on horseback — at a total cost of $535. I reached "Zion'* 
in splendid health, but complete disguise, if I am to judge from the 
conduct of my friends, many of whom passed me on the street without 
a nod, or with only a slight look of curiosity, as if some old and half- 
forgotten memory were stirred by sight of a face that " had a sort o' 
familiar look." However, after a bath in the warm springs, getting 
off my buckskin pantaloons, spangled Mexican jacket, and Navajo 
scarf, and donning a new summer suit, my fingers received once more 
the wonted squeeze, and once more I began to feel very like a Christian. 

It was on this journey through Southern Utah, and after my arrival 
in"Zion," that I heard narrated the personal experiences which are 
combined in the three succeeding chapters. 



CHAPTER XX. 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 



Merrily rang the bells of Church, Herefordshire, in the 

merry month of May, 1847; for Nixy James, the belle of the hamlet, 
was that day to be married to Elwood Briarly, the sturdiest young 
yeoman on all the country side. The elder James and Elwood's father 
had grown from childhood together: intimate companions and fierce 
rivals for the lead among the village politicians, partners in public 
sports and at the village tavern, but never, by any possibility, on the 
same side of any exciting question. Thomas James, cobbler, was 
often heard to declare that Yeoman Briarly would "contradict for 
contradiction's sake — he'd argefy wi' t' clock on t' church steeple, 
rather than go wi'out argefying;" while the yeoman, on his part, in- 
sisted that James "was aye runnin' after every dashed new-flingled 
notion that come along." He couldn't see why simple folk like us 
couldn't be content wi' t' old church and t' old laws, and not take up 
wi' every outlanguaged kickshaw from France or 'Merica or other 
foreign parts." For his part, give him the British Constitution. 

Nay, the difference was in the blood; for James' great-grandfather 
was a hot adherent of the Prince of Orange, while the Briarlys had 
stood by the " Lord's Anointed," and remained zealous Jacobites even 
down to the coming in of the House of Brunswick. They held to 
legitimacy long after Church, Lords, and Commons had forgotten it; 
but the James' had ever three bogies: a papist king, an Irish rising 
and a French invasion. Now it so happens that a whole people can 
not always be scared into submission by Irish risings and French in- 
vasions ; and so, by and by, new and perplexing questions arose, and 
certain pestilent fellows began to talk about "more liberty," and 
"household suffrage," and the "rights of the people." It was an ex- 
traordinary proceeding on their part, and Yeoman Briarly stoutly pro- 
tested no good could come of it; but, in spite of him, he would have 
told you the James' family and all their adherents went crazy. But 
it never shook him. Oh, no; he planted himself firmly on the Con- 
stitution, and defied the world to move; and, when the others became 
Chartists, he declared, with great positiveuess, over his pipe in the vil- 
lage ale-house, what Parliament ought to do to stop this sort of thing. 

(317) 



318 WESTERN WILDS. 

But in despite of all this contention, the young people persisted in 
loving each other almost from the start, and at last the blood of the 
Old Radical and the Old Conservative were to be united. And all 
this time, there was growing up in an obscure village across the sea, an 
ignorant, awkward youth, who talked through his nose, and told plau- 
sible libs as naturally as he breathed, whose career was to strangely 
aifect the blood of the Briarlys and James'. Across the sea an insti- 
tution was born which was to change the current of all these simple 
lives in a way the wisest little dreamed of. 

The ceremony was ended, the shoe was thrown, the village maidens 
strung garlands for the bride ; there was the feast, the dance, and all 
the simple pleasantry of the middle class of English farmers. One 
year Elwood Briarly rejoiced in the society of his young wife — one 
year of continued courtship. Then came a season of trial, happily 
ended, said the nurse and doctor ; and an infant daughter was laid in 
the arms of the proud father. A perfect little manikin it was, with 
the orthodox creases in its perfect little feet, and all the orthodox lines 
on its perfect little face, by which wise matrons so infallibly fix the 
resemblance to either parent : a precious little life wrapped up in a 
perfect little anatomy. But the primal curse still rests, even on the 
head of the hardy English woman. The weight of the precious fruit 
broke the parent stem, and the life of the plant exhaled in the sweet- 
ness of the opening flower. Nixie Briarly only saw that her babe had 
started well in this world, then bade her weeping husband good-bye, 
and fell asleep. 

To him it seemed that all which made life worth having was gone. 
His had been no sudden affection; for long years Nixie had been 
central to all his plans, and now there seemed nothing worth exer- 
tion. His daughter — he could scarcely say at first that he loved her — 
strange pain ! She seemed to him almost as a living reproach. 
Months passed, and it was remarked that he was "slack;" his hand 
had lost its cunning, and words of pity were heard. Months again 
passed, and it was remarked that he went often to the village ale- 
house, and this time the word of pity was accompanied with an 
ominous shake of the head. But the current of common life flowed on 
too fast for others for them to turn aside to cheer him. Old yeomen, 
on their way home from church, leaned over the fence to look at the 
little farm he held on lease; and while you might have thought them 
j)ondering on the preacher's words, the real thought behind those 
heavy, unexpressive eyes was, "When will it be to lease?" At the 
ale-house he sat apart, a moody man; and it was surprising how 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 319 

soon his old companions learned to do without him, and he dropped 
into the ranks of the half-forgotten. All at once it began to be 
whispered that Elwood Briarly was drinking a great deal; and then 
that he was drinking altogether too much, and very soon after, that 
he was a drunkard, and in an amazingly short space of time that he 
was an abandoned drunkard, and that his late lease was vacated and 
the farm to be relet. And so it was that when his little Marian was 
only three years old, she was taken home to grandfather James, and 
Elwood Briarly plunged down, down, down along the course of those 
given over to the national vice of Free (and "Merrie") England. 

Counted as already dead by those nearest him, he became a com- 
mon laborer for the means of gratifying his appetite. His sorrow 
had yielded to time, but now habit dragged him down. "When reason 
asserted her sway he struggled to his feet for a few days or weeks, 
then fell again, and each time deeper than before. And now his 
habits and associates had changed his original nature. At the church 
or social gathering he was never seen; his only recreation worth the 
name was at the workingman's club ; there he easily learned to crit- 
icise every body but himself, and to blame every one for his troubles, 
the government most of all. The genial young farmer had become 
first a snarling critic, then a radical, a cynic, a misanthrope. 

Again he struggled to his feet, and in one of his sober moods, on a 
calm Sabbath afternoon, started with his little girl for a stroll upon 
the village common. His attention was attracted by a small group 
of people who had gathered around a rude stand, extemporized by 
piling a few stones together. On this stood a man of peculiar ap- 
pearance, with what Briarly thought an unpleasant nasal tone, and a 
complexion that was certainly not English. " It's one o' them new- 
fangled preachers from America," said a neighbor, as he came up ; and 
for want of some better amusement, he decided to wait and listen. There 
was a general air of critical indifference in the small audience, idle 
and seeking only entertainment as they were ; but they were respectful. 
The preacher seemed to fix his eye on Briarly as he pronounced his text : 

" If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that givcth to 
all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.''— 
James i : 5. Slowly repeating the text, as if to fix the meaning 
of each word, the missionary cast a glance over his congregation. In 
that sweeping inspection he had noted those whom he would most 
likely reach. 

"My friends, brethren and sisters, all; this means you. It don't 
nean the Pope of Rome is to have all wisdom. It don't mean His 



320 WESTERN WILDS. 

Grace the Archbishop. It means that you arc to know for your- 
selves, and not for or by another. It means that you are to receive a 
Avitness from God himself, and know of a surety whether this doctrine 
is true. It is not for the rich alone, or the learned ; a burden is 
laid upon me to open the Gospel to the poor and ignorant, to help 
those who need it, to cheer the sorrowful, to lift up the lowly, to 
preach the acceptable year of the Lord," and again his glance fell 
upon Briarly. The latter was powerfully impressed. He had lost 
his old friends. He longed for sympathy. If any man could prom- 
ise him something better, that man was sure of a favorable hearing. 
The jircacher continued : " You have priests who tell you that there is 
no more revelation, that the volume of God's word is closed. For 
eighteen hundred years the Christian world has received no message 
from the Almighty: the heavens have been shut up, the Lord has not 
spoken, there has been no prophet to inquire of the Lord. AVhere is 
their authority to say this? Where is it written in this book that 
prophecy shall cease? Our fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, 
and were saved ; but the bread my fathers ate is not sufficient for me. 
I would know God for myself. Go ask your priests for a witness of 
their mission. They can not show it. Eighteen hundred years ago, 
they say, God spoke ; eighteen hundred years ago He loved His 
people, and led them by revelation. But now the canon is full ; the 
world is wise enough to do without the daily word of God, and there 
is no longer a voice from the Most High to guide us ! What ! Is 
God dead? Is there less need of a living oracle now than there was 
eighteen hundred years ago ? Or is the world so ^^ure that a prophet 
has no work to do? Do all men acknowledge God, and worship him, 
and is there no unbelief that God should refuse us a witness? No, 
my friends, I'll tell you why it is." 

The speaker had warmed into something like eloquence. His audi- 
ence were impressed, and the nasal tone which at first aifccted their 
English ears unpleasantly, seemed to have vanished. 

" It is because they rejected God's plan. They would not have a 
continuous chain of revelation. They have set up churches in which 
there are no prophets nor apostles; they have not the gifts of the 
apostolic church, and the Holy Spirit is not with them; they have 
the form of godliness, but deny the power. Should any one say 
to them that God had sent a prophet, they would cry out against him. 
But, my friends, God is not dead. The heavens are not brass to those 
who seek the truth. God, who so loved the world that he sent his Son 
to save it, loves us as much as he did the people who lived eighteen huD- 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 321 

dred years ago, and has sent us a messenger. As he spoke to the saints of 
the former days so has he spoken to the Latter-day Saints, and all Avho 
will may know for themselves that this message is from God. In 
America a prophet has been called ; the word of God has whispered 
out of the dust, as foretold by Isaiah, and once more communication 
is restored between God and man." 

The speaker then recited the story of Joseph Smith, his conversion 
and calling, his mission and martyrdom, as foretold by all the prophets ; 
and supported his doctrine by an array of Scripture texts that aston- 
ished and fairly overwhelmed his simple hearers. Their experience 
had left them unprepared for any thing of this sort. All their lives 
they had heard the letter of the Scriptures distorted in the petty war- 
fare between the sects ; great principles they did not comprehend, and, 
to come to the point, there was no reason why prophets and apostles 
should not walk the earth now as well as in former times. The mis- 
sionary's argument on this point was to them unanswerable : if there 
was wickedness and unbelief in ancient times, so there was now ; if 
men needed a living witness then, much more did they now, when so 
many claimed to be messengers from God, and all differed as to His 
nature and government. No text in the Bible said that prophets should 
cease, while scores of texts implied that He would not leave the earth 
without an infallible guide. 

Elwood Briarly was powerfully impressed. He was in the Slough 
of Despond, and the missionary brought hope ; he was disgusted with 
all about him, and here was a chance for a new life. Next day he 
was surprised by a visit from the Mormon preacher. The latter was 
totally unlike the parish priest. He did not stand off and preach down 
at the poor outcast ; he took a farming tool and worked beside him ; 
aye, did task for task with him, and talked only in the intervals of work. 
He, too, had known poverty and disgrace ; he, too, had been an unfor- 
tunate and an outcast ; he had not walked in silver slippers, and how 
mightily did he affect these simple people. From house to house he 
went, resolving doubts, urging proof texts, preaching and debating; and 
sitting by their humble firesides of an evening, he sang with unction : 

" The Spirit of God like a fire is burning, 

The latter-day glory begins to come forth ; 
The visions and blessings of old are returning ; 

The angels are coming to visit the earth. 

We'll sing and we'll shout with the armies of heaven, 

Hosanna, hosanna, to God and the Lamb I 
Let glory to them in the highest be given, 

Henceforth and forever, amen and amen ! " 

21 



322 WESTERN WILDS. 

What wonder that he prevailed mightily among these simple people. 
What wonder that the cold, barren, carefully prepared homilies of the 
l)arish priest were swept aside ! The emotional faith of the speaker 
went to the hearer's soul. It was no cold, intellectual reasoning; it 
was warm, robust feeling, and as a natural consequence believers grew 
and multiplied. In less than one month from that Sunday, Elwood 
35riarly, his father-in-law James, and a dozen of their neighbors were 
baptized into the Mormon Church, and eager to set out for "Zion." 

But between them and Salt Lake City intervened many months of 
work for the cause. And now the whole aim of their lives was 
changed. Preacliing and working, at home or abroad, all was for the 
Church; their talk was of "visions and dreams," "the ministering of 
angels," " tongues and the interpretation of tongues," " healings and 
miracles." And so it was, that by the opening months of 1856, this 
little band of Saints was ready for the long journey to " Zion." 
Old Man James was beside himself with joy at thought that all his 
dreams were soon to be realized; that Brotherhood of Man, that free- 
dom he had vainly sought in Chartism, was to be realized in the Rocky 
Mountains, where God's people were to live under the mild rule of 
prophets and apostles. Such an idea captivated thousands of young 
Englishmen. To them, Utah was a land where all legal hardships 
were to be cured, and all men to be equal; and the spirit of brotherhood 
among the British saints at this time, to which all observers bear wit- 
ness, they thought only a foretaste of the perfect oneness in Christ 
w'hich was to prevail in Utah. In this spirit our friends gathered to 
I^iverpool, where it was announced, through the columns of the 3Iil- 
IciDiial Star, that God, by His servant Brigham, had devised a cheaper 
and better way of reaching Utah ; the Saints were to travel from the 
frontiers on foot, and take their necessary baggage on hand-carts. 
But what can shake a fervent and fi)oling faith? Without a murmur 
of dissent the waiting hundreds crowded on the vessel chartered by 
the Mormon agents, and, grouped on the deck as the vessel started on 
their way, they sang with a. tone that resounded o'er the waves: 

"Oh, my native land, I love thee; 
All thy scenes I love them well; 
Friends, connections, happy country, 
N Can T bid you all farewell? 

Can I leave thee, 
Far in distant lands to dwell? 

" Home, thy joys are passing lovely, 
Joys no stranger heart can tell ; 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 323 

Happy home, 'tis sure I love thee, 
Can I — can I — say 'Farewell?' 

Can I leave thee, 
Far in distant lands to dwell? 

" Yes, I hasten from you gladly. 
From the scenes I love so well ; 
Far away, ye billows, bear me ; 
Lovely native land, farewell! 

Pleased I leave thee. 
Far in distant lands to dwell. 

" Bear me on, tliou restless ocean. 
Let the winds my canvas swell ; 
Heaves my heart with warm emotion, 
While I go far hence to dwell, 

Glad I bid thee, 
Native land, farewell, farewell." 

On ship-board the discipline was perfect. The new converts were 
distributed in quorums, over each an elder, and over all a trustee or 
apostle, insuring mutual respect and cleanliness; and in this order the 
emigrants traveled all the way to Iowa City, their outfitting point for 
the plains. It was there learned that over two thousand of the poorer 
and middle class of converts had that year left Europe, all of whom 
were to continue the journey from this point with hand-carts. But 
precious time was lost. The Mormon agent had neglected to provide 
the carts; they were now hastily constructed of imperfectly seasoned 
wood, and the whole party set out joyfully late in July, and were soon 
strung along the route thence to the Missouri Eiver. The first 
five hundred got an early start, and being largely composed of youno- 
and strong men, entered Salt Lake Valley just as the first snow of the 
season was falling. But our friends, with their companions, found 
themselves the second week in August just prepared to start from the 
Missouri. Fanatical as they were, some of them shrank from making 
the attempt so late in the season. The division contained five hun- 
dred persons: a hundred and twenty stout men, three hundred women, 
and children old enough to walk, and seventy babies to be carried by 
their mothers or hauled upon the carts — this party starting to traverse 
eleven hundred miles of mountain and desert in the closing months of 
the season ! Totally ignorant of the country and climate, the converts 
were eager to go on to " Zion," but there were four of the leaders who 
had been to the valley, and others at Florence attending to the emi- 
gration. Incredible as it may appear, all these urged them on but one; 
Levi Savage used his common sense and knowledge of the country, 
but was rebuked by the elders, who prophesied, in {\\e name of Israel's 



324 WESTERN WILDS. 

God, that not a flake of snow should fall upon them. " You will hear 

of storms to the right and to the left, but a way will be opened for 

you," Each hundred was then put under charge of a captain; to each 

hundred there were five round tents, twenty persons to a tent ; twenty 

hand-carts, one to five persons, and one " prairie schooner " drawn by 

three yoke of oxen, to haul the tents and provisions. All the clothing 

and bedding, seventeen pounds to each person, and all the cooking 

utensils, were upon the hand-carts, besides a hundred pound sack of flour 

to each. Thus equipped, rested by the delay and " strong in the promise 

of the Lord by the mouth of His elder," the second division set out 

from the Missouri the 18th of August, singing in cheerful concert: 

" A church without a prophet is not the church for me ; 
It has no head to lead it, in it I would not be; 

But I've a church not built by man, 

Cut from the mountain without hand, 
A church with gifts and blessings, oh, that's the church for me, 
Oh, that's the church for me, oh, that's the church for me. 

" The God that others worship is not the God for me ; 
He has no parts nor body, and can not hear nor see; 
But I've a God that lives above, 
A God of Power and of Love, 
A God of Revelation, oh, that's the God for me. 

" A church without apostles is not the church for me ; 
It's like a ship dismasted afloat upon the sea; 
But I've a church that's always led 
By the twelve stars around its head, 
A church with good foundations, oh, that's the church for me. 

" The hope that Gentiles cherish is not the hope for me, 
It has no hope for knowledge, far from it I would be; 

But I've a hope that will not fail. 

That reaches safe within the vail, 
"NVliich hope is like an anchor, oh, that's the hope for me." 

But neither hope nor faith changed the harsh climate of the high 
]>lains and wind-swept plateaus; and seven weeks of travel left our 
friends still four hundred miles from " Zion," in the heart of the high 
Rockies, almost out of provisions, worn down, sick, apparently for- 
gotten of God and abandoned by man. It was then the inborn noble- 
ness of the English race shone out. Men toiled on day after day, 
liauling and even carrying women and children, wading ice-cold 
streams with the feeble in their arms, in many cases carrying their 
little children in the morning and themselves dying before night. 
Fainting fathers took the scant rations from their lips and fed their 
crying children ; mothers carried their babes till they sank exhausted 
in the snow, and young men nerved themselves to suffer every thing 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 



32b 



for those they loved. Briarly had never known how much he loved 
his little Marian till then. Daily the image of her mother grew in 
her face, and hourly he felt the agony of death lest he should leave 
her corpse in the wilderness. At times pushing his hand-cart with 
her weight added to his regular load; at times wading the cold mount- 
ain streams with her clasped to his bosom, and yet again assisting 
others whose husbands or fathers had died on the way, he showed 
that a false faith had not yet corrupted nature. Day after day tlie 




" WHOSE EXISTENCE FROM DECEMBER TILL MAY IS ORGANIZED FAMINE AND MISERY." 

train struggled on in silence and sorrow, and every morning saw from 
one to ten of their number cold in death. Daily the survivors grew 
weaker from exposure and insufficient food : old men died as easily as 
a lamp goes out when the oil is exhausted ; women died as a child 
goes to sleep ; young men died sitting by the camp-fire, with their 
scant rations in their mouths. Still the survivors pressed on, though 
every day more slowly: by day pierced by the keen winds, or happily 
sheltered a little by the mountain pines; by night shivering and moan- 
ing in a miserable sleep, cheered only by the long drawn and melan- 
choly howl of the coyote. 



326 WESTERN WILDS. 

The regular winter storms struck them at Rocky RIdgc, l)ut not 
until the first relief company from Salt Lake (^ity hud reached them. 
In their worst extremity some had even accepted charity from the 
wretched Goshoots, whose existence from December till May is organ- 
ized famine and misery. But help came too late for one of our 
friends. Old Man James had borne up long and well. The day the first 
storm of winter came he sank by the wayside with scores of others. 
John Chislett, commander of this hundred, took oif his own blanket 
and wrapped it around his older and weaker brother: and a few 
hours later the relief party brought him into camp. They warmed 
and chafed his cold limbs, and pressed food upon him ; but his 
thoughts were far away. He babbled of green fields, and the hawthorn 
along the English lanes; of the village ale-house and the Chartist's 
Club, of his little Nixie, still a child, as he thought. This recalled his 
later experience, and starting up, he cried : " My curse, my eternal 
curse on those who brought us from our English home ; " then fell 
back with glazing eye and stiffening jaAV. 

The Old Radical had found the Brotherhood of Man at last. 

But Brigham's kingdom had lost a subject. 
* * * * * * * 

While fanaticism was corrupting fresh young English hearts, the 
harsh attrition of rural life in the West was wearing another hero 
into shape. But who would have chosen Willie Manson for a hero 
that spring afternoon? — his face covered with dust, through which 
the tears were washing little tracks ; his feet bare, and his head half 
covered with a dilapidated straw hat. He had but dim recollections 
of a tall and kindly man who spoke to him as " my boy;" since then his 
"legal guardians" had made him more familiar with the phrase, "that 
wretched young one," and the neighbors' children had nicknamed 
him "Binder," in allusion to the legal tie which relegated him to the 
authority of his master. How have they wasted their time — those 
poets who write of "innocent childhood?" Cruelty is bound up in 
the heart of a child, and is manifested against the helpless of his own 
age. If you do not believe it, watch a group of school children, when 
a pauper child, or a "bound boy" or girl is first sent among them. 

But to-day Willie Manson had received blows as well as harsh 
words, and as he came across the fields on his errand, a glance Avest- 
ward showed him a wide expanse of open country; and all at once 
arose that vague longing which ap})ears to have moved our race ever 
since the first Aryan turned towards sunset. Obeying a wild im- 
pulse — half anger and half a formed desire to run away — the boy fled 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 327 

swiftly across the fields till he reached the high road; then he stopped, 
and, boy-like, with the reaction came this thought : " Oh, won't I catch 
it, though, when I get home?" Left to himself, the thirteen-year-old 
child would, of course, have gone back, taken his punishment, and 
perhaps sunk into a "white slave," perhaps taken a later occasion to 
fly. But fate would have it otherwise. As he pondered, there came 
down the road a high "prairie schooner," drawn by four horses; 
within the neat white cover sat a cheery looking woman who held the 
reins, while behind came two men driving loose cattle. They nodded 
and smiled in a way that warmed the heart of the forlorn orphan ; but 
the next minute turned in haste to head off their cattle, who had 
broken into a wood lot and were stampeding for wild freedom. With 
a natural wish to please, and glad of some change, the barefooted boy 
ran after the cattle, and, by his knowledge of the locality, assisted 
greatly in getting them past the next open piece of timber. They 
thanked him heartily, and pressed a silver dime upon him, then bade 
him good-bye; but, to their surprise, when they camped that evening 
on the banks of the Wabash, the boy was there. Reluctantly the 
"movers" consented to his remaining for the night, and in the morn- 
ing, fearing the consequences to themselves of "harboring a runaway," 
they sent him back. But to their amazement, when the swing ferry 
had landed them on the west bank, and they were toiling up the west- 
ern bluif, the boy climbed out of the rear of the wagon-box and beg- 
ged to go on with them. His readiness to help had pleased the men, 
and now something in his pleading face touched the weary but still 
cheerful woman. 

"Isn't he like our Johnnie was? And at the age we lost him" — 
and she took him into her great motherly heart at once. So, with 
many misgivings, the head of the family consented to his accompany- 
ing them. But it might have been noticed that he made a very long 
drive that day, and camped at a distance from any dwelling; that he 
managed to keep Willie very busy if any settler halted to chat with 
the "movers," and that he pressed upon him a hat very different in 
appearance from that he had worn. And so it was that in a few days 
Willie felt as if he had never known other friends than these ; that 
the old life as a "bound boy" was a dream, and that he was to begin 
a new life away in the West. 

By this time they had emerged into what seemed a vast field with- 
out a fence, where, for hours, they jogged on over the grand prairie 
without sight of tree or house. They crossed the Embarras, the Okaw 
and other streams, threaded their bordering groves, and were out again 



328 WESTERN WILDS. 

upon the prairies, then but thinly settled, of central Illinois. Beyond, 
they descended the gently rolling hills, crossed the great river, and in 
the early summer entered upon the rolling plains and wooded vales of 
Iowa — and still on and on. To Willie each new day brought surprise 
that the world was so big; but still at evening the man replied to 
his wife's question : '' I want to get out where I can have my pick. 
Reckon a hundred miles or so west of Iowa City '11 suit mc" 

At last the pioneer announced that " this 'ere district looked new 
enough, and about the right thing," and at noon of a scorching July 
day they made camp for the last time. Willie had taken the bucket, 
and was returning from the creek near by with water, when suddenly 
there came in view the most amazing caravan he had ever looked 
upon. For a mile along the dim wagon track there straggled in 
strange array men, women, and children, all panting and sweating 
under the hot sky of an Iowa July noon. Here and there were 
heavy wagons drawn by oxen ; but most of the vehicles were rude 
carts with shafts attached, and in those shafts — how could the little 
American believe his eyes? —were actually women and men, not ex- 
actly harnessed like brute beasts, but pushing or pulling at the heavy 
loads. Dripping with sweat and begrimed with dust, all ages and 
sexes still seemed eager to press on ; little children ran beside the 
carts, while babies slumbered on the piles of bedding, or hung upon 
the breasts of bronzed and weary mothers. Behind came the more 
weary, and with them a man who appeared to be in command, urging 
them on; and among the last came a man who pushed a cart before 
him and pulled another from behind, while a little girl walked beside 
him crying to ride. 

"What's the matter, little girl?" said the boy, finding his tongue at 
last. The child hushed on the instant, but still lingered as if wanting 
to talk. 

"Where are you going, little girl?" 

"To Zion — to build up the kingdom of God." 

The boy was positively frightened. What could this strange little 
creature mean. But before he could ask, she whimpered : " Oh, I am 
so tired." 

This was something Willie could understand very well; and it was 
not half so bad to his mind as the other, for, like most children who 
have been under severe authority, he literally "feared God." To 
him any other prospect was more pleasant than going to the "king- 
dom," as he understood it. But while he gazed at the little one, and 
in his boyish way wondered and speculated, the advance of the caval- 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 329 

cade had halted for midday at the creek ; and he followed with the 
weary child, who seemed all at once to have acquired great confidence 
in him. Meanwhile the pioneer had been down to talk with the party, 
and Willie had to bid his little acquaintance good-bye and hurry back. 

"And who are they, any how?" said the wife. 

" Oh, a set of d — d fool Mormons," replied the matter-of-fact 
Hoosier — " they say they're a goin' to Zion. More likely goin' to 
the devil, startin' out the way they are." 

But Willie had in mind his little friend of an hour, and, after much 
pondering, concluded that she must be a " bound girl " as he had been 
a " bound boy," and that some harsh master was taking her away from 
home ; so, with the good Avoman's permission, he gathered up some 
delicacies left from their dinner, and ran down to offer them to the 
little girl. He listened to the talk of the elders, but it was a strange 
jargon to him; there was so much about "wicked Babylon," and 
"God's wrath," and "the last days," that he was frightened again, 
and could hardly say whether he was glad or sorry when the cool of 
the day came on and the strange party set out again. But the vision 
remained long in his memory; and months after he astonished his 
patron by suddenly asking: "Who are Mormons, anyhow? and why 
don't they use teams just like folks?" 

A year passed, and the boy Avas again moving Avestward. A year 
had done Avonders in strengthening his body ; he Avas already knoAvn 
as a skillful driver, and Avhen a train set out to haul provisions to the 
army in the mountains, he was promoted to the management of "one 
span " and a " light outfit." " Three span outfits," on such a route as 
that, Avere reserved for men. Need I recount the incidents of that dis- 
astrous autumn and Avinter of suffering? Our army, marching care- 
lessly and Avithout a thought of resistance, alloAved the Mormon troops 
to run off their stock, and render them helpless on the inhospitable 
plains of Bridger. There the train to Avhich Willie Avas attached found 
them in the dead of Avinter, and but for this timely arriA^al they must 
have suffered for food. The Avinter dragged on in misery and ex- 
posure; but fortune, Avhich had denied our little hero almost every 
thing else, had at least given him a rugged constitution, and he lived 
through a season AV'hen strong men drooped and died. When spring 
had dissolved the snoAv banks from the Wasatch passes, and "King 
Buchanan had come to his senses," as Mormon history expresses it, 
peace was made, and the army entered the Territory, traversed Salt 
Lake City, and was located at Camp Floyd. 

Aifd now came the era that Avas to decide our young hero's future; 



330 



WESTERN WILDS. 



for Camp Floyd presented extraordinary facilities for the ruin of char- 
acter, and Willie was at that period which most often decides one's des- 
tiny for time — perhaps for eternity. With the army, or following close 
after it, came an array of camp-followers outnumbering the soldiers 
three to one. Government contracts were given out with a laviiih 

hand, and money 



that was easily 
got M'as lavishly 
spent. Among 
the superiors, 
there was hiijh- 
toned robbery of 
the Government 
and the Indians ; 
among the in- 
feriors, gambling 
and quarreling, 
and every-where 
rioting and fatal 
"accidents." The 
revolver was in 
f r e q u e n t use ; 
renegade young 
Mormons crowd- 
ed the camp, and 
the scum of the 
mountains made 
it their rendez- 
vous. For two 
years our hero 
was swept along 
l)y the tide. He 
was by t u r n s 
teamster, com- 
missary clerk, 
and merchant's 




SCENES ON THE COLORADO PLATEAU. 



clerk; but still preserved enough of nature's nobility to make him, 
in his quiet moments, loathe the life around him, and long for a 
purer atmosphere. Gentile merchants had opened stores in the city, 
and with a sudden impulse he set out one morning to ride there 
and seek a position. But the Irfe he had lately led had not been 



THE FAIR APOSTATE. 331 

without effects. Exposure and over-exertion when at work, and dissi- 
13ation instead of relaxation when at leisure, can not long be borne even 
in the stimulating air of Utah. He felt every hour of his progress a 
o-rowins: lassitude ; and had barely entered the outskirts of the 
city, when he fell from his horse in a paroxysm of that dread 
disease, mountain fever. When he opened his eyes in his first 
lucid moment, ten days after, he was amazed at what he thought 
a familiar face near his pillow. He gazed long and earnestly, and at 
last, despite all the changes of four years, recognized the little girl he 
had last seen on the banks of the Boyer, in Iowa. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE FAIR APOSTATE — CONTINUED. 

It was in full Tabernacle, in the early autumn of 1856. The reign 
of lust and fanaticism, known in Utah as the " Eeforniation," had not 
ended; and at every meeting fresh schemes were projected to bind the 
Mormons more thoroughly into a pliable mass, which might be "even 
as a tallowed rag in the hands of the priesthood." Every Saint 
had been required to confess the minutest details of his past life ; all 
these were written down, signed by the party, and thousands of them 
filed away by Brigham Young. The ward teachers had reported ev- 
ery case of real or supposed heresy ; the accused had been severely 
catechised, and the incorrigible driven from the Territory — or icorse. 
A grand "experience meeting" was now in progress. Brigham 
had pronounced one of his fiercely denunciatory and sweeping ser- 
mons, and three thousand Saints, wrought up to the highest pitch of 
fanaticism, were singing the inspiring national hymn of the Mormon 
theocracy : 

" In thy mountain retreat 
God shall strengthen thy feet, 
On the necks of thy foes shalt thou tread ; 
And their silver and gold, 
As the prophets have told. 
Shall be brought to adorn thy fair head. 

Oh, Zion, dear Zion, liome of the free. 
Soon thy towers will sliine with a splendor divine, 
And eternal thy glories shall be. 

" Here our voices we'll raise. 
And we'll sing to thy praise. 

Sacred home of the prophets of God! 
Thy deliverance is nigh, 
Thy oppressors shall die. 

And the Gentiles shall bow 'neath thy rod. 

" Oh, Zion, dear Zion, home of the free ! 

In thy temples we'll bend, all thy rights we'll defend. 
And our homes shall be ever with thee." 

Into this assembly came Joseph A. Young, second son of the 

(332) 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 333 

Pro pliet, just returned from a two years' mission in England, and an- 
nounced that two divisions of the hand-cart emigrants were on the 
plains, and in danger of starvation. Then Brigham roused himself, 
and became, in the estimation of his people, indeed " The Lion of the 
Lord." Without giving his son a day's rest, he started him at once 
on the return, with authority to press all the wagons and available 
bedding and provisions in the settlements he passed through. The 
people contributed gladly, and in all the assemblies of the Saints pray- 
ers were continually offered that God would stay the storms of win- 
ter; but instead thereof, as though heaven would rebuke the pre- 
sumptuous, the storms of 1856 (it is the testimony of all mountain- 
eers) came on earlier and with more severity than for many years be- 
fore or since. The poor emigrants were brought in only M'hen one- 
fifth of their number had died of cold and starvation, and as many 
more been maimed in various degrees. Among the fortunate few were 
Elwood Briarly and his little Marian, and their kinsman, young 
Thomas James. 

The arrival of the sufferers only added to the prevailing madness. 
" Surely," said fanaticism, " God is angry with His people, or His 
promise to temper the winds w^ould have held good;" and in an 
amazingly short space of time most of the new-comers were as insane 
as the rest — for, indeed, it did seem that at that time all Utah was per- 
vaded by an epidemic madness. Jedediah Grant and Orson Hyde 
ranged the Territory, breathing out threats against dissenters, and 
teaching bloody doctrines in figures of speech. The New Testament 
was laid aside; Hebraic precedents only were cited: Phinehas, who 
killed his brother and the Midianitish woman; Jael, who slew the 
heathen ; the king who massacred idolaters, and the priest who 
hewed the transgressor in pieces before the Lord. "The time is nigh 
at hand," said Grant, " when we will walk up and down these streets 
with the old broadsword and say, Mre you for God?' — and whoever 
is not will be hewn down !" Marrying and giving in marriao-e went 
on constantly, as fast as the ordained officials could put the Saints 
through the Endowment House ceremonies proper to " plural mar- 
riage." Every eligible woman in the Territory was appropriated, and 
girls of twelve and fourteen years were "sealed " to old elders. In one 
month after he entered the city, in six months after he was an honest 
citizen of Christian and monogamous England, Elwood Briarlv was 
the "husband" of two girls who came with him in the hand-cart 
company. 

Where now were the lofty ideals with which the English Saints had 



334 WESTERN WILDS. 

left home? The old Radical who dared all for greater freedom, was 
food for the wolves in the Rocky Mountains. The young Radical who 
sought a land where men were free in Christ, was now the subject of 
the worst despotism on earth. The maidens who " fled from Babylon 
because of its corruptions," were prostitutes in the name of high 
heaven; and the Saxon yeoman, who boasted that "the Briarlys 
served no man and feared no officer," was now the slave of lust and of 
Brigham, and a virtual criminal by the laws of his adopted country. 
That brotherly communion of the Saints, which had so warmed their 
hearts in old England, they were never to realize again in Utah ; 
the British elders, who had labored long to build up the Church abroad, 
soon found they had sold themselves for naught, but could not be re- 
deemed even at a great price. Many of them mourned secretly for 
years, and, when deliverance came, were too much broken in spirit to 
avail themselves of it. To them Mormonism has proved the loss of all 
honorable ambition for this world, and only the skeptic's hope for the 
next. 

The madness of the " Reformation" wore itself out, and the plenti- 
ful harvest of 1857 made Utah prosperous. On " Pioneers' Day," 
July 24th, thousands of Saints were joyously celebrating the settlement 
of the country in Cottonwood Cailon, when suddenly arrived two eld- 
ers from the States, with the announcement that President Buchanan 
had removed Brigham from the Governorship, and ordered the army 
to Utah. Brigham's brow darkened as he said : " When we reached 
here I said, if the devils would only give me ten years, Fd be ready for 
them ; they've taken me at my w^ord, and I am ready." The people 
were called together, and a defensive war declared. All Utah was 
soon in a buzz of warlike preparation. Briarly bid his wives good- 
bye, shook their two right hands and kissed their four lips, and was 
off for Echo Canon with two thousand armed Saints, to drive the Gen- 
tile army from the borders of Zion. They were wonderfully success- 
ful. The little brigade, under command of Colonel Albert Sidney 
Johnston, was scarcely a match for the wild riders of Utah, who 
knew every cafion and gorge in the Wasatch. The Mormon boys 
rode at full speed down hill-sides where a cavalryman dared not vent- 
ure at a walk; and finding the army wagons parked, and their cattle 
herded in the vegas on Ham's Fork, they set fire to the tall grass, and, 
when the smoke had obscured the view, dashed across the burning 
plain and drove off a thousand of Uncle Sam's cattle. 

A few such exploits as this filled the Mormons with a vainglorious 
pride, scarcely yet abated ; and many a Saint even now tells with a 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 



335 



joyful glow how " the hirelings of King Buchanan gave back before 
the Mormon boys." Winter found the Gentile army on the bleak 
plains of Bridger, unable to mpve, and nearly all the Mormon soldiers 
went home to enjoy the gayest winter Utah has ever passed. Songs, 
sermons and dances, varied by glowing prophecies, kept them in 





V / 



" DASHED ACROSS THE BTTRNING PLAIN." 

splendid humor with themselves. No people in an equal' space of 
time ever produced so much bad poetry as the Mormons; but a few of 
their best songs have a ring in them that then made them popular, 
especially if they breathed sarcasm and defiance of all the Gentile 
world. While the elders prayed and prophesied, the boys in the 
camps sang : 

" Old Sam has sent, I understand, 
Du dah! 
A Missouri '•■■ ass to rule our land ; 
Duhdahl Duh dah day! 

* Referring to Gov. Alfred Gumming, who was, however, a Georgian, and was greatly 
enraged when Brigham afterwards spoke of him as " from Missouri." 



336 WESTERN WILDS. 

But if he comes, Ave'll have some fun, 

Dudah! 
To see him and his juries run, 
Duh dah! Du dah day! 
Chorus: Then let us be on hand 

By Brigham Young to stand ; 
And if our enemies do appear, 
\Ve'll sweep them from the land. 

"Old squaw-killer Harney is on the way, 
Duh dah! 
Tlie Mormon people for to slay, 
Duh dah! Duh dah day! 
Now if he comes, the truth I'll tell, 

Duh dah! 
Our boys will drive him down to hell! 
Duhdah! Duh dah day!" 

But again were faith and hope vain. When the spring sun had 
dissolved the snow-packs from the passes of the Wasatch, the army 
entered the valley, while 30,000 Mormons were on their flight south- 
ward. Col. Thomas L. Kane had entered Utah from the south ; the 
Peace Commissioners, Powell and McCuUoch, had promised amnesty, 
and Governor Cumming had entered Salt Lake City. But all in vain. 
The people continued their mad flight southward, while Gov. Cum- 
ming stood by the road-side, tears rolling down his cheeks at sight of 
their misery, and implored them to remain. It was midsummer be- 
fore any considerable number returned; with them Briarly and his 
family. But the mad proceedings of two years had not been without 
their influence on our friends. Thomas James began to ask himself, 
in all seriousness, if what he had witnessed could be the result of Di- 
vine guidance ; and in Utah it is emphatically true, that he who hesi- 
tates is lost — to Mormonism. And now began that terrible conflict in 
the soul of the young man, through which more than one apostate has 
passed with tears of agony, with doubts and tremblings, with days of 
painful self-examination, and nights of restless tossing and vain de- 
bate. Could it be that all was a delusion ? That his father had died 
on the plains, that he and those near to him wore laboring and suifer- 
ing — and all for a dismal lie? Losses of friends, property, honors, all 
can be borne, and the strong man rise above them ; but who can tell 
the heart-rending agony of the devotee who has lost his Ood f 

He scarcely knew Avhy, but in no long time he found himself in a 
small circle of those who suflcred in the same way. Not that they sought 
each other, or confessed their secret doubts at once ; but little by little 
they grew to understand each other. They labored to convince them- 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 337 

selves that there had only been slight errors ; that in the main the 
faith was correct, and they would receive their reward. But such 
self-deception was not long possible. Chief among these sorrowing and 
doubting ones was Elder John Banks. He had early embraced the 
faith in England. He, too, had been a Chartist leader, and thought he 
had found true liberty and brotherhood in Mormouism. And now a 
strange friendship sprang up between the disappointed man and the 
doubting lad. They walked and talked together; their Sundays and 
leisure hours they spent in sad but pleasant communion over their 
troubles, or in renewed study of the "evidences" they had once 
thought so convincing as to the divine origin of Mormonisra. As 
might be expected, the younger was the first to free himself. Let what 
might be true, he knew in his heart that Brigham was not sent of 
God. The Mormon faith he could not reject entirely, but compro- 
mised on the idea that a true prophet was yet to arise ; that a terrible 
mistake had in some way been made, and that in due time God would 
remember His people. But the elder could not then begin a new 
life; his heart was bound up in Mormonism, for which he had toiled 
so long, and he urged his young friend to go with him and lay their 
troubles before President Young. Brigham received them with that 
paternal kindness he exercises towards all who may yet be saved to 
the church ; he doled out the usual commonplaces about " faithful- 
ness," " obedience," " live your religion," and " pay your tithing." 
But it brought no healing to these sore minds. Thomas James was 
already " apostate in spirit," and there was more in the sad heart of 
John Banks than he could put in words to Brigham Young. 

The friends visited the Briarlys, and there saw the young Gentile, 
now slowly convalescing. The younger looked on him and thought 
of the great gulf that separated them. Here was a lad but few years 
younger than himself, but with none of his heart-racking doubts and 
fears. What was there in the nature of things which made him a 
prey to conflicting emotions to which this one was a stranger? Some- 
times he hoped Mormonism was all a delusion, but dreaded lest it 
might be true ; again he labored to prove to himself that it was true, 
and still feared that his hope was vain ; but whether he hoped or 
feared, he somehow felt a strange envy of his new acquaintance, who, 
though now an invalid, was at any rate neither a dupe nor a traitor to 
his faith. The whole family soon took a strange interest in the youno- 
Babylonian, Avhom fate had brought to their door. He could now sit 
up and talk, and his talk was such a strange contrast to theirs. Secretly 
they felt guilty for taking so much enjoyment in it, and vet his liglit- 
22 



338 WESTERN WILDS. 

est utterance seemed fresh and piquant. They did not know it, but 
they were getting weary of " Tabernacle talk." The strain they had 
lived under had worn great grooves in their natures, almost without 
their knowledge. The "wives" were not the fresh and guileless 
English girls of four years before. Little by little they had learned 
to shut up their souls, to hide their inmost nature from others, even 
from themselves. That extreme reticence which polygamy engenders 
had become a habit; a habit carried into all the concerns of life, even 
where it was unnecessary. They were transformed, without knowing it, 
from individuals into parts of a great machine; and though they some- 
times felt a strange pain and longing, they scarce knew why, and 
would have insisted with vehemence that they were happy in their 
present relations. To them, this pale Gentile, who had seen life from 
the other side, as it were, and now talked in such a pleasant, grateful 
way of his past and hope for the future, brought a strange pleasure 
that had in it a touch of pain. On Manson their kindness had a 
great effect. Mormonism he knew only from the current talk at 
Camp Floyd — a view altogether presumed and one-sided; but were 
not these people humane and gentle? were they not of his own race 
and color? And could that be entirely bad which produced such 
good results? And so, though not a word was said on either side 
about religion, while the light utterances of the Gentile implanted 
skepticism in the minds of the Saints, the simple kindness of the 
Saints had almost converted the Gentile. 

But none of these things touched Elwood Briarly. Four years in 
polygamy had seared the delicate tendrils of his English heart; he 
was, in his fanaticism, a Hebrew of the Hebrews; and to him this 
stranger was only to be aided in his distress, because he bore the 
human form, but quietly gotten rid of as soon as possible. And yet 
there lingered one element of his best days; he loved his little 
Marian, though he had given her two step-mothers, and brief as had 
been that meeting in Iowa, he still felt the kindness of the boy, and 
as far as might be with a Gentile, wished him well. Convalescence in 
the stimulating air of Utah was rapid, and in due time Willie Manson 
was able to seek employment with a Gentile merchant in the city, 
and there he remained two years. His little English friend still re- 
tained his friendship, and in that desultory way, in which alone asso- 
ciation between the two classes could then take place in Utah, he 
occasionally visited and kept up his acquaintance with the Briarlys. 
Thus matters went on till the spring of 18G2. 

But what strange transformation was this which the little English 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 339 

maiden had undergone ! Or was it really the same child he had 
known, and whose prattle had so greatly amused him during his con- 
valescence? It could not be, he thought, though the change had oc- 
curred before his eyes. No, she was no longer English; she had the 
trim form, the delicate complexion, the arched instep, and the light 
tripping step of the American girl. She Avas obeying the climatic 
laws of sunny Utah, and not of foggy England. And thus have 
thousands of British parents in that Territory lost their children. 
For whether it be due more to climate, or to a change of fare, or to 
exemption from the severe toil and hard life of the poor in Europe, 
true it is that thousands of foreign-born female Saints, themselves 
short and stocky, find their daughters growing up in the American 
likeness; and the young girls "coming on" in Utah are so much 
more handsome than the young girls just from Europe, that the 
Saints are bewildered, and the revelation for "celestial marriage" is 
often set at naught. But what was this other change wdiich annoyed 
the young man so greatly, and puzzled more than it annoyed him ? 
Was not this his friend, the same girl who had run to welcome him ? 
Why should she now avoid him, or blush and shrink away when he 
spoke? True, she was older; but what is a M'oman, he thought, but 
a girl of larger growth? and why should the woman hate him when 
the girl had felt so grateful to him ? In all his experience he had 
seen nothing like it. To add to his troubles the poor fellow was 
lonesome. He had within him the gentle blood of that tall, hand- 
some, and loving man whom he could barely remember, and he could 
not assimilate with the rude society which was all he could find in the 
floating Gentile population. The brief period in which he had 
yielded to dissipation at Camp Floyd, he now looked back upon with 
disgust. He felt within himself a capacity for better things ; he 
grew shy and uncommunicative, and spent his leisure hours in reading 
or walking about the pleasant streets of the Mormon capital. Some- 
times he wildly resolved on a return to the States, and again that he 
would outfit with some of the parties going to the " new^ diggings," 
away up in the Blackfeet country. Then when another mood seized 
him, he would venture on another visit to the Briarlys ; and though 
he was sure there was nothing pleasant in the sour looks of the Mor- 
mon, or the sad silence of his " wives," and least of all in the shy 
avoidance of him by Marian, still he would go, because, as he thought, 
there was nowhere else to go. He pondered, and pondered again, 
upon the unpleasant change which seemed to have come over every 
body in whom he felt an interest, and his musings always ended in 



340 WESTERN WILDS. 

one unanswerable question : Why should his little friend, who had 
once liked him, now dislike and shun him? 

But if all this was a mystery to Manson, it was clear enough to the 
Mormon father, who had twenty years more experience in the ways of 
this wicked world; clearer still to the ward teachers, who visited and 
catechised every family in their jurisdiction once a week, and clearest 
of all to tlic wary bishop of the sixth ward, whose business it was to 
know every thing that was going on in his bishoprick. They knew, 
none better, the strange impulses that wake up in the transition period 
of life ; they knew the various motives that influence men to think 
they are serving the Creator, when they are only moved by the 
creature. And now look out, young man, for move which M'ay you 
will, you are almost certain to make a mistake. A few months more, 
and you will either be a bond-servant of Brigham Young — bound to 
theocracy by ties you can not sever, and by oaths you dare not break, 
or an enemy to be harassed and in time expelled. 
* H: « * =1^ * * * ■-'^ 

A new prophet had arisen, and John Banks was wild with joy. 
Joseph Morris, a simple Welshman, had seen the heavens opened, and 
through long ranks of shining horsemen the three celestial messengers 
had come from the throne of Eloheim and bestowed on him the keys 
of this last ministry. Burning with zeal, he called on Brigham 
Young to announce his mission, and was dismissed with a short, sharp, 
and filthy response, which shocked but did not discourage him. Mor- 
ris at once called upon the people to rally to the true standard, and 
converts flocked to him from all over the Territory. They were no 
longer without a living oracle. Brigham had no message to them from 
the skies ; he was a dumb prophet. Joseph Morris abounded in visions 
and revelations. He was the messenger of God, and the true priestly 
successor of Joseph Smith. To John Banks this was the fullness of 
the gospel indeed ; he had grieved over the one-man ])ower, and sighed 
for the Brotherhood of the Saints, and in this mission he saw new 
hope. For seventeen years there had been no voice from heaven, but 
now Joseph Morris had revelations so fast that four clerks — two Eng- 
lish and two Danish — were required to write them down. The re- 
proach of the Saints, that there had been no revelator since the death 
of Joseph Smith, was now taken away ; and John Banks sought his 
young friend Thomas James, with the glad tidings. He, too, longed 
for a living prophet, and in a month was as zealous a "Morrisite" as 
he had once been a Brighamite, and, with five hundred others, gathered 
to the camp on the "Weber. There revelations, charms, visions, coun- 



THE FAIR APOSTATI^-CONTINUED. . 341 

oils, and " speaking in tongues " followed in bewildering profusion. The 
converts followed the (supposed) example of the early Christians, and 
had all things in common. Christ was to come and reign in person in 
a few months, and why trouble themselves about separate property? 
At length Morris announced to his followers that they need plow and 
sow no more ; they had enough of grain and cattle to last them till 
Christ came. So all business was suspended except hearkening to in- 
structions, singing hymns, marching in the sacred circle, and listening 
to revelations. But the millennium failed to arrive, according to 
promise. Then arose the inevitable quarrel, and secession of a few 
members. These claimed a larger share of the common property than 
the orthodox thought them entitled to, and, when refused, levied upon 
the cattle and wheat of the community. Flour on its way from the 
mill to' the camp was seized by the dissenters ; the dissenters were 
seized in turn and held in close custody by the " Morrisites." The 
civil law was invoked, and the militia were ordered out. Once more 
were the old Chartist and the young Radical to be disappointed ; once 
more was fate to give the lie to a prophet, and teach man, by painful 
experience, what he should have known by the commonest of common 
sense. The devotees of Morris were soon to learn what the devotees 
of Brigham are slowly learning — that "who Avill not be ruled by the 
rudder must be ruled by the rock." 

One fine morning in June, 1862, appeared before the camp of the 
" Morrisites " Robert Burton, sheriff of Salt Lake County and Mor- 
mon Bishop, with six hundred armed men and five pieces of artillery; 
and sent in by the hand of the "Morrisite" cowherd a demand for the 
surrender of Morris, Banks, and some others. At once the brethren 
were called together in the bowery — an open shed where they usually 
worshiped. Morris put on his prophetic robe and crown, took his 
divining rod, and proceeded to "inquire of the Lord about the matter;" 
while the whole congregation of five hundred men, women, and 
children broke into a loud song, an invocation to the God of Israel 
to descend in a chariot of fire and make known His power upon His 
enemies. By this time Morris had received the revelation. It 
promised that God would show His power, and to that end had 
brought the jposse upon them ; that not a hair of the head of any of 
His people should be injured; that not one of the faithful should be 
destroyed. Scarcely had the last words died upon the air, when there 
Avas a sharp whizz, followed by the boom of a cannon, then a scream 
from the upper corner of the bowery. Two women fell dead from their 
seats, fearfully mangled, and Elsie Nightingale had her under-jaw 



342 WESTERN WILDS. 

carried away by the same cannon shot. Never was prediction of a 
prophet more suddenly and terribly falsified. Ninety-three able- 
bodied men were all the camp could boast, but they at once flew to 
arms. The cannon and long-range rifles of the Brighamite militia 
completely raked the interior of the camp, the people being hid in 
holes and trenches, while the "Morrisites" had nothing but common 
guns with which to reply. Nevertheless, they refused to surrender, 
and for three days, fighting with the desperate energy of religious 
fanaticism, maintained the unequal battle. The third evening some 
one raised a white flag. Bishop Burton, after the prisoners were dis- 
armed and under guard, rode in among them and emptied his revolver 
right and left, killing Morris and two women, and mortally wounding 
John Banks. Thus ended the " Morrisite " secession. 

A second time was Thomas James disappointed; a second time was 
he the victim of his own fervent and fooling faith. But this time not 
without recompense. In the " Morrisite " camp he had met one to 
whom his religious nature instinctively paid reverence. A Danish 
girl, Christina Jahnsen, alone of her family had been a convert to the 
new prophet; and through all the troubles of that troublous time 
the young Briton had been cheered by her companionship and sym- 
pathy. Now all was over. The last hope of man for a living prophet 
was dispelled. He was a captive with the rest, and confessed in his 
inmost soul that he no longer believed, or could believe, in any man 
claiming a mission from God. For the rest of his life he was a skep- 
tic. He saw that the woman he loved was safe, at least from personal 
danger, then determined to escape. While the Brighamite posse were 
busy rifling the houses and tearing down the tents of the captive 
" Morrisites," he sprang into the bushes and ran swiftly up the Weber. 
A shot from one of the guards cut a deep flesh-wound along his side, 
but he escaped. I'o return to the settlements he knew would be certain 
capture ; there was no chance for him but to continue eastward through 
the mountains, till he could fall in with some Gentiles upon the Mon- 
tana trail. Weak from loss of blood, his wound inflamed by exposure, 
and with nothing but the wheat he could forage from the little patches 
on the Weber, he still continued his flight. In Echo Cafion, at the 
house of an old friend, he secretly received some aid and toiled on. 
Passing the Wasatch, he entered on Bear River Valley, but there his 
strength deserted him, and he sank helpless upon the ground. He 
reflected with agony that he was off* the main road and upon an obscure 
trail, and would probably lie there unnoticed till want and fever had 
done their work. The pain from his wound became unbearable. A 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 343 

strange heat was on his face. As the sun rose higher it seemed that 
his sight grew dim. The bordering mountains receded, the plain 
seemed to rise and swallow him up. Strange, distorted images passed 
before his face, and he fell prone upon the grass, with but a few hours' 
delirium between him and death. 

;i: *'* * * * ^ H^ ;!; 

It was something of a surprise to Willie Manson, when next he 
called upon the Briarlys, to be received by the head of the family 
with smiles of welcome, though he could not but notice that Marian 
left the room as soon as he entered it. Her father was flanked on all 
sides by documents: Orson Pratt's Worhs, The Pearl of Great 
Price, The Key to Theology, Tlie Book of Ilormon, and the Doc- 
trine and Covenants. There was a long argument, of which he 
understood but little save the beginning and ending, in these words : 
"Why don't you accept the truth and become one of God's Saints?" 
If Briarly had asked him why he didn't fly to heaven without wings, 
the question would scarcely have seemed to him more absurd. But 
the elder soon convinced him that he had something to do beside mere 
pointless objecting, if he would answer the proof texts cited in support 
of Mormonism. There was first the whole tenor of the Bible, to the 
effect that prophets and apostles should always lead the true church ; 
there was not a line in the Old or New^ Testament to imply that mir- 
acles and prophecies should cease; and there was, on the other hand, 
this explicit declaration of Saint Mark : " And these signs shall fol- 
low them that believe: in my name shall they cast out devils; they 
shall speak with new tongues ; they shall take up serpents ; and if 
they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them ; they shall lay 
hands on the sick, and they shall recover," To this were added a 
score of texts promising that God would always be with His people to 
aid them in doing wonderful works; that they should have ever a 
witness to confound unbelievers ; that they should trust, when sick, 
not in an arm of flesh, but call in the elders, who should lay hands 
on them, and that prophecy should not fail, or God leave himself with- 
out a witness. Against all this, where was there one text to show that 
these gifts were to be confined to the apostolic age? For two hours 
did Elder Briarly continue this argument, heaping up a mountain of 
facts and texts which no man could meet Avho had not made theology 
a study. Poor Manson was utterly confounded. In his trouble, he 
happened to raise his eyes and glance into an adjoining room. There, 
hidden from her father's sight, stood Marian, listening intently, her 
gaze fixed upon Manson \\\i\\ an eager, pleading look that went to his 



344 WESTERN WILDS. 

soul. It was but for a second. She was evidently off her guard. But 
the young man left with a strange pain in his heart that he could not 
analyze. 

Once away from the personal influence of the elder, his mind in- 
stinctively revolted against the argument. He could not answer it ; 
but \\Qfelt that Mormonism was a fraud. He went again and listened 
to more searching; arirumcnts. This went on for weeks. He rarelv 
saw Marian, still more rarely got an opportunity to speak to her ; but 
instead, he listened to all the ])lausible sophistry of all the Mormon 
apostles and apologists — a whole library of books devoted to pervert- 
ing the Scriptures. He could not reply effectively, yet he did not 
believe. All at once there was a sudden change. There was one 
visit when no argument was offered, and little courtesy shown. He 
went away greatly disconcerted ; but some influence, he could not 
have told what, soon took him there again. Elder Briarly received 
him in silence, then opening one of his works of " authority," read : 
" If any man, having heard the truth in its fullness by the mouth 
of an elder, persists in unbelief, he is from that hour an enemy 
of the faith. From such withdraw yourselves; for it is not possible 
that such companionship should be profitable." " Young man," said 
the elder, " that is our faith, and it shall be my practice. For the 
future — you undei'stand me." 

Erelong Manson observed that some strange and evil influence was 
around him. The old lady with whom he boarded suddenly declined 
to extend any further accommodations, forcing him to seek a distant 
and less convenient place. Soon he observed that Mormon custom- 
ers avoided him, and always waited for some other clerk to attend on 
them. The young men of his own age (juietly dropped his acquaint- 
ance, but always without a word of explanation or ill humor. There 
was no complaint at the store, but his employer could not fail to 
observe that this clerk lost rather than gained him custom. Strange 
changes had taken place in Utah. The army was gone, and the new^ 
Federal officials seemed completely under the control of Brigham 
Young. The nation was in a death struggle with rebellion, and every 
Sunday the Tabernacle rang with fierce denunciations of the Gentile 
government. This was the consumption decreed, this 'svas the great 
war foretold by the Prophet Joseph, which was to avenge the Saints 
on their enemies ; this was the beginning of the bloodshed Mhich was 
to lay waste Babylon, and bring the day when seven women would 
take hold of one man, and a feeble remnant of the American race 
come begging the Saints to save them from annihilation. Thus ran 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 345 

the Tabernacle talk. It was a dark time for the few Gentile resi- 
dents. Every man must look out for himself, and those under ban 
were to be avoided. In one month from his last conversation with 
Elder Briarly, Willie Manson was out of his position in the store, 
out of his latest lodgings, and in a frame of mind desperate enough 
for anv thino;. In this mood he met a returned Californian, who had 
halted in Salt Lake for a brief space, and instead of going on home, 
had again been seized with the gold fever, and wanted a companion 
to the northern diggings. In twenty-four hours they were equipped, 
mounted and off, taking the route north-east to come upon the Bridger 
trail, and secure a larger party to pass through the Indian country. 
Their fourth day of leisurely travel they descended the eastern slope 
of the main Wasatch, and turning more to the north, aimed for the 
upper bend of Bear River. Midway upon this plain, Manson was 
amazed to find lying under a scrubby pine his acquaintance of the 
previous year, the Mormon apostate and escaped " Morrisite," Thomas 
James. 

Hank Beatty, the Californian, was all impatience to press on to 
the Montana gold fields. He had spent two years in California, and 
started back poor as he came, and in a fever to get home; but the 
tolder and more persistent fever again seized him, when he heard of 
the rich discoveries in Montana, and he became again that eager, rest- 
less mortal — a gold-seeker. But Manson would not leave the sick 
and wounded man. He transported him to the nearest place where 
good water could be procured and a rude shelter erected, and there 
for a fortnight, while Beatty fumed and fretted, he nursed the unfort- 
unate back to health and strength. As soon as he was able to ride 
slowly, sharing the two horses between the three, they traveled on to 
the Bridger and Fort Hall trail, and were soon in company with a 
jolly party of Missourians, all primed for adventure, and sanguine of 
getting gold beyond the dreams of avarice. But the adventure came 
before the gold, for soon the whole country was swarming with Ban- 
nocks and Shoshonees. 

These warlike savages looked upon the Montana emigration of 1861 
and '62 as their legitimate prey. From the eastern foot of the Sierra 
Nevada, clear to the Laramie Plains, the whole Shoshone nation 
seemed to concentrate on this trail; with them soon came their kins- 
men, the Bannocks, and erelong the way was dotted with the wrecks 
of ca])tured trains and the bodies of murdered emigrants. From 
Bear Biver northward our party had an almost continuous running 
fioht. At last they reached a section where sleep and rest were 



346 



WESTERN WILDS. 



almost impossible. At night they halted, built fires, and hastily pre- 
pared their food ; then struck off across the valley, built another fire, 
as if for camp, then abandoned it, and passed the night on the high- 
est accessible point of some barren rock. By day they grazed their 
stock only on the most sheltered points, surrounded with scouts; and 




"THE BRIGHT WEAPON GLITTERED IN THE AIR— BOW AND ARROW FELL FROM: LIFELESS 

HANDS." 

at night again pursued the same devious course, building fires and 
leaving them, traveling zigzag, taking their water, almost on the run, 
from the few pools, and never camping near a stream or in a wooded 
glen, but traveling the direct distance twice or three times over. 



THE FAIR APOSTATE— CONTimJED. 347 

Now it was that Thomas James seemed to recover his health of body 
and mind. Danger made him forget the past, and he soon came to 
be relied on for every daring work. At the last stream they must 
cross before entering the mining region, the savages had attained the 
perfection of ambush ; and James and Beatty were sent forward to 
reconnoiter. From almost beneath their horses' feet, in the worst 
part of the thicket bordering the stream, rose half a dozen savages. 
Beatty whirled his horse to the left and spurred him into the timber, 
but it was too late for James to return, who was in advance. Before 
him stood a gigantic Bannock, his arrow on the bow and already half 
drawn. Could he have looked forward a few years, how gladly would 
he have welcomed the shot which should pierce his heart. But now, 
life was still sweet, though he had lost so much. His long hunting- 
knife was in his hand. His spurred animal dashed madly upon the 
savage. One instant the keen, bright weapon glittered in the air ; the 
next bow and arrow fell from lifeless hands, and the burly Bannock 
fell back into the pool, which was fast crimsoned Avith his heart's 
blood. The momentum carried the horse forward into the opposite 
thicket ; there was a shower of arrows, but the white was out of 
range. A short, sharp conflict followed; the savages were defeated, 
and the long harassed emigrants with joy hurried forward into the 
open plain, and before night were in a region free from Indians. 

Common danger and mutual good offices had bound the two young 
men together as with hooks of steel ; for on the plains men long associ- 
ated must cither become warm friends or bitter enemies. Together they 
mined upon the bar, together they prospected the lonely canon; they 
shared in prosperity, and together suffered from the "stampede" and 
disappointment in Sun River Gulch. They lost property by the 
" road agents," and acted with the Vigilantes. All this time they 
were growing. Four years amid such scenes had developed them more 
than ten of common life. But at last they grew weary of wild life. 
There were those who drew them mightily towards Utah. The com- 
mon impulse could not be resisted, after they learned that all had 
changed for the better there. The nation was no longer at war. 
American soldiers were stationed at Salt Lake City. General Connor 
had "civilized" the hostile Indians with one hand, and with the 
other taught Brigham Young to respect the Gentile government. The 
tide of overland travel again flowed through Utah in a heavy volume. 
Thousands of miners were going to winter in Salt J^ake. The tide 
was now southward, and the late autumn of 1865 saw our heroes again 
upon the borders of Zion. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 

The hot, dry summer of 1866 hastened on. The long trains of the 
newly converted were strung out from the Missouri to the Laramie, 
and the deputed Saints from Utah were on their way to meet them. 
The fiiint green of the bunch-grass had yielded to its summer brow'n, 
and the landscape of Cache Valley already showed that the Utah 
season was a fruitful one. The July Sabbath saw a gay and happy 
assemblage in Logan Ward ; the liarvest had been plentiful, and 
Bishop Warren was alternately thundering against the ungodly, and 
thanking the Mormon "Lord," in the ward assembly rooms. The 
mountain maidens smiled and nodded as they passed into the spacious 
building; the Mormon lads collected in the back seats, and the bishop 
changed his strain to a tirade on " the laziness of the young people 
of the present day." He told of digging ditches, building fences and 
making dobies, and assured them they must learn it in this world, or 
they would have a good deal more of it to do in the next. He then 
branched oif to the necessity of improving their stock, paying their 
tithing, and keeping their covenants; "and, above all," said he, "let 
no man sell his wheat till we get the w^ord from Brother Brigham, for 
these Montana men must buy of us, brethren, this year — they must do 
it, for the Missouri's too low for 'em to run up flour from the States 
that way. So hold on to your wheat till President Young gives the 
word." After giving notice where the best bull could be found,* and 
reading a list of estrays, the worthy bishop announced that certain 
j)arties " who had been for awhile out of the Church, would now be 
received back on profession of repentance, and baptized again," and 
concluded with : " God bless you all, is my prayer, for Jesus' sake. 
Amen." 

But who is this that comes to be rebaptized and taken back to the 
fold, " having apostatized from the Saints and been buffeted of Satan ?" 
It is none other than our once true hero, Thomas James! And he 
is happy as the day is long. The bright sunshine of the bright Utah 

* Fact ! This was a frequent practice in Utah assemblies when the author first went 
to the Torritorv. 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 349 

summer ciin add notliing^ to the sunshine in his heart, for he has 
found Christina, and she is his promised wife. But she is again a fa- 
natical Mormon. Her brief experience with the "Morrisites" had 
been enough of independent thinking for her whole life-time, and she 
was again with her family, and again one of the sister Saints. And 
she was more beautiful than ever. Her clear complexion had just 
enough of the Scandinavian tinge, her soft flaxen hair seemed to the 
ardent youth finer than silk, her mild blue eye told of an aifectionate 
disposition and faithful heart. But all was not pleasant. She was 
beautiful to others as well as him ; and when the apostate youth, after 
a wearisome winter in Salt Lake City, traced her to Cache Valley, 
he did so only to find her sought in marriage by the bishop. And 
was it not more of an honor to be the " bishop's fourth " and his 
" favorite," as she certainly w'ould be, than the " slavey " of a poor 
mechanic, to "nigger it on love and starvation?" Such talk she 
heard daily. But that was only for this world. As for the next — ah, 
there was the nameless horror she could not shake off. For into the 
soul of every believing Mormon woman was ground this sentence: 
" If she will not abide in this law, she shall be damned." And the 
" Revelation on Celestial Marriage " had too plainly pronounced the 
future fate of all who marry unbelievers : " They shall be angels only, 
and not gods ; they shall be servants to those worthy of a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory." If she married a Gentile, there 
could be no "exaltation" for her in the celestial world; she must re- 
main a servant forever, "blessed wdth no increase;" go through 
eternity without a husband, and be a hewer and drawer to other 
women who had kept the law on earth. It was too terrible. 

And so, when her former lover, after long waiting, had an oppor- 
tunity to speak to her, she told him there was but one thing to do : 
he must accept the gospel as revealed by Joseph Smith ; he must reen- 
ter the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and live his re- 
ligion, that he might secure " exaltation " for her and himself. 
"Reenter the Church — be rebaptized? Why, certainly; why not?" 
thought James. All religions are alike. It is but to pay tithing, and 
observe the ordinances, to confess the errors of " Morrisite " belief, to 
be "buried again in baptism," and thenceforward "obey counsel" 
and run with the current. God knows he had had a hard enough time 
runnino; aijainst the current; he would let things take their own 
course now. What mattered it ? He could subscribe to one belief as 
well as another; and so, in sight of all the congregation, he owned 
his manifold errors, received absolution, went down into the water, 



350 WESTERN WILDS. 

was cleansed, and was again " Brother Thomas James, of Logan 
Ward, assigned to Brother William Sessions' class, and to be fellow- 
shiped accordingly." 

How smoothly sped his love-making then ! How light appeared 
his duties on the farm where he had contracted for the season's work ! 
How mild the soft moonlight nights, how grand the calm mountains, 
how beautiful the crystal Logan River as it dashed down the pebbly 
rapids near her home ! Evening after evening he was with her. The 
bishop seemed to have given up his suit. Her friends, however, fa- 
vored the man of position ; he was of assured faith ; this one might 
apostatize again. There is an old proverb in Utah, which has some- 
thing to say about the " danger of being rival to a bishop ;" but could 
any thing be more cordial than the conduct of Bishop Warren to the 
reconverted man ? Almost in spite of himself James was led on to open 
his heart more freely to Bishop Warren than he would have believed 
possible a year before. And it must be confessed that he Avas not as 
thoroughly versed in some of the minor points of doctrine as a man 
should be to make a good impression on a bishop. And now James 
was very much surprised to find that two or three of his acquaint- 
ances, young men of his own age, had their doubts also about the 
truth of Mormonism ; and, though he would not have had the bishop 
know it for the world, he conversed freely with them, and confessed 
his own motives and mental condition. True, he knew these young 
men sometimes served as ward teachers, but what of that ? Was it 
not probable that, like himself, the very intensity of their work for 
Mormonism had set them to thinking ? He knew that had been his 
own case. But there were several things he did not know. He did 
not know that on the soft, warm moonlight nights, M'hen he lingered 
in the garden or grove with Christina, there was an eye and ear 
not far away, trained to the secret service of the Church ; and that, as 
his love-making progressed, and father and mother left them more to 
themselves, and they spent half the night in the cosy arbor back of the 
house, there was a mysterious way by which all their familiar secret 
dalliance became a part of the Church records. No ; there were 
deeper depths in Mormonism than were suspected by the most sus- 
picious English Saint; and even now in Utah not one in ten knows 
the power that controls him. But human nature, especially male na- 
ture, is not changed by the stimulating air of L^tah ; and so, as the 
warm nights passed, Christina's soft hair twined in his fingers, her 
fair cheek resting on his bosom, her young and graceful form clasped 
in his arms, her heart gently agitated with the half- resisting, half- 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 351 

yielding pliancy of love^ it strangely happened that certain lines in 
the " secret ritual" were forgotten, and the faithful ward teacher, then 
on duty, had an important account to give the bishop at their next 
meeting. And the bishop frowned, then smiled, then frowned again, 
while the faithful teacher waited for his commendation, and really 
could not tell whether his spiritual superior was pleased or angry. 

It was a mild September Sabbath afternoon, and Bishop Warren 
was thundering against covenant-breakers. He grew furious about 
" the wolves that would creep into the fold and ravage among the ewe 
lambs ;" he quoted the " blood-atonement " sermons of Jedediah M. 
Grant and Brigham Young, and called for a "show of hands" as to 
whether the brethren and sisters sustained these doctrines. All hands 
were held up, and again he threatened the law-breakers. " There are 
wolves among the flock, but there are dogs set to guard it, and the 
dogs have very sharp teeth.* Now, brethren and sisters, keep your 
own counsels. You all know what was done at San Pete, when Ed- 
ward Beauvais defiled a daughter of Zion. And I want you to under- 
stand that the boys of Logan are as true as the boys of San 
Pete. Now, keep still and mind your own business. Judgment will 
be laid to the line in Zion, and righteousness to the plummet in Lo- 
gan. Ask no questions, and no lies wall be told you. If you want in- 
formation, don't gabble with your neighbors; come to your bishop. 
He'll tell you what is good for you. And if you hear any thing 
strange, don't go talking to your women about it ; there are those set 
in authority by the Lord God Almighty to inquire into such things. 
But you mind your own business. All who say it is all right, hold up 
your right hands. [All hands up.] May the Lord bless you all, for 
Jesus' sake. Amen !" 

The afternoon meeting ended; the Saints slowly wended their way 
homeward, smiling and chatting. In the front yards and neat gar- 
dens gathered the family groups for a peaceful evening; the red 
sun sank behind the Promontory Range, and the calm of a Puritan 
Sabbath settled down upon Cache Valley. How happy these people 
must be! — at least so many a Gentile visitor has said. How calm, 
how peaceful, how free from envy, care and strife ! 

But the dark night drew on. About 10 P. M. three figures ap- 
peared in the shadow between the ward meeting-house and the line 
of box-elders beside it. There was yet no moon ; still they kept in 
the shadow. A fourth softly approached. 

*See "blood-atonement" sermon by Orson Hyde, in the "Journal of Discourses," 



352 WESTERN WILDS. 

"Are you fixed, brethren ?" 

" We are, bishop. Which is it to be ?" 

" You know — the endowment penalty — second grade. The daugh- 
ters of Zion must be protected." 

" But that is not " 

"No ! It is death — so written; but this time the other will be bet- 
ter. You understand ? Hist !" 

They vanished in the darkness. 

Thomas James's cup of earthly happiness seemed full. He felt 
no consciousness that this was a world of errors, and that he had 
committed a very serious one. Were not he and Christina to be man 
and wife in a few weeks, and would it not be all right then ? It was 
midnight before he gave her a good-bye kiss, and took the quiet road 
down along the banks of the Logan River. The late half-moon was 
just beginning to peep over the rugged AVasatch, casting great scallops 
of light and shade across the valley. How musically the river 
rippled over its clear, pebbly bottom ! how pleasantly gurgled the wa- 
ter-seeks along the road-side ! And how still was the peaceful Mormon 
town ! — how far superior to the manufacturing cities of the East, 
where there was riot and strife, and sometimes murder ! What a kind 
and social people was this people ! How little crime there was here ! 
He laughed aloud as he thought of the absurd stories he had heard 
concerning " the danger of being a bishoj)'s rival." And as the bright 
surface of the crystal stream shone in the moonlight, it seemed to him 
a fit emblem of the peace over the land; its dancing wavelets repre- 
sented the joy in his own heart. Yes, this was indeed a land of 
peace ; and if Mormonism was not true, these were in a sense " God's 
people," among whom all honest men were safe. 

Ha ! What was that ? 

Nothing, apparently, but some brother's cow moving among the tall 
weeds. Snapping off the head of a wild sunflower with his light 
walking-cane, he turned into the dark grove which lay between him 
and home. Sharp and shrill came a whistle from in front. He 
started back suddenly. A rope fell about his heels. He instinctively 
threw up his hands to save himself from falling. A sack was cast 
over his head. It was drawn tight from behind. He struggled des- 
perately, but his mouth was so bound he could not utter a cry. Stout 
arms had hold of him; they pinioned every limb. Helpless, voice- 
less, still desperately struggling, he was borne away, he knew not 
whither. 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 353 

If Willie Manson had been astonished at his last visit to Briarly in 
1862, how was he amazed by the latter's conduct in 1866! For Bri- 
arly had returned from a mission on the Rio Virgen, whither he had 
been sent in 1863 "to build up the waste places;" and he not only 
sought Manson at the store where he had found employment, but 
talked with such graceful fluency that the Gentile was quite con- 
founded. He showered invitations on him to visit them at home ; he 
never alluded to any thing disagreeable that had passed between 
them; he inquired with almost embarrassing interest of Hanson's suc- 
cess in the mines, and talked about the return of peace in the States 
and the glory of the American nation in a way that would have put 
the warmest Republican in the shade. Here was a change indeed. 
Why he did not at once accept these flattering invitations, Willie 
could not for his life have told. He was sure he retained no malice 
against Briarly, as indeed why should he ? He knew of no harm this 
Mormon had done him, and he did recall some good. And yet he 
did not at once accept. He saw that Briarly was now an elder of 
some rank; that he was in a fair way to become a bishop; that he 
was loud in "bearing testimony" in all "experience meetings," and at 
times held forth eloquently in the Tabernacle on the " evidences." But 
he noticed, too, that Briarly never called on him when other Mor- 
mons were in the store, and that his effusive utterances were always 
in a corner, and when no third party w^as near. 

He pondered the matter until it became really tormenting, and 
then had recourse to his friend Hank Beatty, who had returned from 
Montana with a good-sized belt full of " dust," and now lingered in 
Zion. Beatty heard the account through carefully, cocked his head 
on one side, closed one eye in profound meditation for a moment, then 
everted his leathery lips, and, with a regular Missouri "thlurp," 
ejected a gill or so of ambeer into the water-seek. After it, flavored 
with nicotine, came this oracular response : 

" Keep your eye peeled — somethin's up. This is a queer country." 

Manson was painfully aware of the truth conveyed in the last sen- 
tence ; but now the thought suddenly occurred to him, " What had 
come over Beatty lately ?" The latter lingered unaccountably. He 
had said that he left home, in New York, in 1860, and went by sea to 
California ; he had, in 1862, and again in 1865, been in a fever to get 
home, and it ran into Manson's mind that Beatty had once told him 
something about having a family, but he was not positive about this. 
And now the man seemed to have abandoned all idea of going home. 
He was enthusiastic in his praises of Utah and the Mormons ; he 
23 



'354 WESTERN WILDS. 

pointed often to the hills, and saitl, in his oracular way : " Money 
there, my boy ; don't you run away from it." To add to Manson's 
perplexities, his dearer friend, Thomas James, had suddenly departed 
for the northern settlements, and had never sent him word or line. 
What a horribly selfish passion is love ! It makes one forget all the 
world but two persons — self and the other self. 

]\[anson was almost ready to conelude that human nature itself had 
changed in this anomalous country. Here were lakes of pure brine 
with no outlet to the sea; all the streams ran towards the center and 
none towards the ocean ; a river was larger at the head than at the 
mouth ; it had two ends and was Ijiggest in the middle ; most of the 
streams came to an end without joining other streams, and though the 
lakes were forever fed, they were never full. Why should not man's 
nature be inverted in such a country ? Where there was no consist^ 
ency in nature it was uureai^ouable to look for it in man. So he de- 
cided to take chances and visit the Briarlys. 

There was a change indeed. He saw but one " wife," and heard no 
allusion whatever to Marian. The elder explained in an awkward 
way that his "wife Matilda was on the ranche down on the Virgen" — 
that was all. Manson was strangely distrait and nervous ; and was 
not at all helped by observing every time he looked up, that his host's 
eyes were fixed upon him with a strange, inquiring look he could not 
comprehend. But as they sat down to dinner — it was on Sunday — a 
man appeared at the gate, and the elder broke forth at once, without 
warning or prefatory remark, into a wordy defense of polygamy. As 
no previous reference had been made to this subject, Manson could 
scarcely conceal his astonishment. But his habits of thought were 
very different from what they had been four years before, and he was 
prepared for argument, as are nearly all Gentiles who reside long in 
Utah. The new-comer entered, and made the usual salutations just 
as Briarly was saying : 

" Abraham believed God, and it was accounted unto him for right- 
eousness. He was called the friend of God — the father of God's 
chosen people. He had no child till he took Hagar to wife, then God 
blessed him with a son by Sarah also, showing that God approbated 
his polygamy." 

" Yes," said the new-comer, whom Manson soon suspected to be one 
of the ward teachers ; " you pretend to revere Abraham — you might 
profitably follow his example." 

"Which example?" said Manson, "when he married his sister, or 
when he lied about it? You know he did both." 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 355 

"Do you revile the patriarchs?" said the teacher, with rising color. 

" I only say of the patriarchs what the Bible says of them, that 
they did many bad things, things which Avould now be considered 
crimes." 

" But God's word specifies all the sins and crimes. You can not 
show a text forbidding polygamy." 

" Perhaps not in express words, but I can show that the general 
teaching is against it. You can not show a text expressly forbidding 
gambling or slavery; but we know they are not justified." 

" But was not Hagar given Abraham of God '? " 

" No. The record shows that God had nothing to do with Abra- 
ham's polygamy. It resulted from Sarah's want of faith. She had 
been promised a son, and as the boy did not come along soon enough, 
she thought she would help the Lord to keep His promise, and so she 
give her husband to Hagar with the express understanding that the; 
child should be Sarah's. According to my notion, the Lord had noth- 
ing to do with it." 

" But Abraham did practice plurality, and the Lord did not con- 
demn him for it — you can't get around that." 

"Yes, Abraham's first wife was his half-sister, and his second 
was a colored woman, and you can't show a line in the Bible to prove 
that she was married to him. The Lord always speaks of her as a 
^bond-woman,' and her son as 'the sun of the bond-woman.' She 
was n't Abraiiam's wife at all." 

"Sir-r," said the teacher — and as he warmed with the debate, his 
Yorkshire accent came out stronger. " You revile wnat you do not 
understand. 'No man knoweth the things of God, save the Spirit of 
God teach him,' and you have no witness. But we have in us that 
knowledo^e which enables us to sense divine truth. I know this work 
is of God. I know that plurality is the celestial law." And to this 
Briarly gave an emphatic assent. He had the spirit; there was a wit- 
ness the Gentile knew not of; lie must be baptized for the remission 
of sins, and receive the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands of one 
that held the true priesthood. Then this witness should be given 
him, and he would know for himself, and not for another, that this 
work was of God. But among the Gentiles there was no priest or 
preacher with authority from God ; hence they could not have this 
witness — and much more to the same effect. 

But Manson was not to be diverted from the main question. The 
controversial spirit was aroused in him, and with many interruptions 
he went on : 



356 



WESTERN WILDS. 



"There is not a case of plural marriage reported in the Bible but 
what it led straight to quarreling, and sometimes to murder. The 
whole Bible only relates thirteen cases of polygamy among the right- 
eous race, while it tells of hundreds of patrian^hs, prophets, and kings 
who either had but one wile each, or none at all. There was Lamech : 

the first })lu- 
ralist m e n - 
tionetl, was 
the second 
m u r d e r e r 
mentioned. 
A b r a h a m 
* t o o k u p ' 
with the hired 
girl, and she 
had a baby ; 
his wife 
abused her, 
and he sent 
her and her 
boy away to 
die or live in 
the wilder- 
ness. Isaac, 
the best man 
of the outfit, 
never had 
more than one 
wife. Jacob 
was swindled 
^^^"^ into plurality 

" BEHOLD OUR LAMANITE BROTHEB." Ijy Jjig hcathcn 

father-in-law; then swindled his fiither-in-law with the trick of the 
])eelcd rods; and after it all his children quarreled, their mothers 
quarreled, and ten of the boys sold another into slavery. 

"That was a nice family for us Americans to pattern after, wasn't 
it? Then there was David — married one widow before her husband 
had been dead a week, and had another man killed so he could get 
his wife ; and after it all, his children quarreled like cats and dogs, 
and one of them rebelled and drove the old man out of his own house 
for awhile. And Solomon — he violated their law, which says the 




THR OUGH GREA T TRIE ULA TIOK 357 

'king must not multiply wives lest his heart turn away.'* He did 
multiply wives, and his heart did turn away. Now look at the other 
fellows. When the Lord started man on earth, he created a one-wife 
man; when he saved the race, he saved a family with one wife each, 
and drowned all the pluralists ; and when Christ came, his earthly 
parents were one man and his one wife. It looks to me like that's the 
safest example to follow." 

It must not be supposed that our friend was allowed to giv^e this view 
continuously ; that w ould be a new experience in Utah. The ward 
teacher had thrown in knotty texts at every pause, and now, wrought 
up to the " sermon point," he concluded with the usual apostolic 
curse — " Behold our Lamanite brother ! " And to emphasize the matter 
a Southern Ute entered the yard, tricked out in all the gaudy finery 
which they affect when annuity goods are plenty. " He is the last of 
a mighty race that rejected the truth. Look at the cities of the 
plain. Behold the desolation of the East as foretold in the prophets. 
The same shall come upon your boasted Union. It's been split in 
Iavo once, and patched up again; but, mark ye, it's like an old bowl — 
it '11 break again in a little while, and ye can't fix it. Then you'll 
flee to these mountains for safety; for the Lord '11 come out of his 
hiding-place and vex the nation in his fury;" and so on for an 
hour. 

As he concluded a light step was heard at the door, and, looking up, 
Manson saw a face that had vaguely haunted him through all his 
iNIontana Manderings. He felt the warm blood rush to his cheeks; 
and in that instant he recognized the source of his uncertainties four 
years before. He now knew why he had lost his little girl friend, and 
why he was so strangely distrait in her presence, and she so strangely 
perverse, apparently unfriendly. He understood it all. She had been 
in the far South, in " Mormon Dixie," and just returned, A faint 
flush overspread her face as Manson advanced to meet her ; in an in- 
stant it passed away, and she accosted him with a manner and words 
that plainly showed she meant to consider him merely as *' some one she 
had met before." But his frame thrilled as their hands touched. It 
was all over with him. He was madly, violently in love. He 
scarcely knew how he got out of the house and got home. There was 
a messenger waiting — a returned miner from Montana — who bore a 
note, in a well-remembered hand. But it contained only these words: 

Will : For God^s sake, come and s&e me. 

Tom James. 

* Deuteronomy xvii: 17. 



358 WESTERN WILDS. 

Certainly he would go, only he must make some preparations 
first. But why was Tom so urgent? and if so urgent, why had he 
kept silent so long ? The Montanian was gone before Manson had 
thought to ask, and the next minute he was astonished to see Beatty, 
w^ith a wagon-load of Mormons, driving out the Tooele road. And 
now it was evening, and he must have some time to think; and 
when it was morning, he thought he must see Marian once more before 
he left, for surely if Tom had been sick, or any thing wrong, he would 
have said so. Now, contrary to the usual rule, bad news does not 
travel fast in Utah ; and when Manson had dispatched a note by the 
slow mail of those days, a week passed before he could take the first 
step of preparation ; and at the end of that week came another note, 
and, strange to say, by another returning miner instead of the mail, 
and it merely said : 

" Foii need not come; wait for me." 

And it is almost a shame to relate it, but ten minutes after the note 
was read, Manson had already dismissed it from his mind, and was 
pondering on his intended visit to Marian. Ah ! love is a terribly 
selfish passion. 

And now the conduct of Elder Briarly was more a puzzle than ever. 
He came again to the store, l)ut talked very little ; and when Manson, 
after waiting on a customer, happened to glance suddenly at the 
Elder, he saw the latter watching him with an eager intensity, as if he 
would read his very thoughts. He could not understand it, and yet 
he knew that it made him very uncomfortable. Worse still, it made 
him half afraid ; and so, while he was in a fever of impatience to see 
Marian, he still hung back irresolutely till another Sunday came, and 
went. He saw her far across the Tabernacle, and was feasting his 
eyes on her face, when her father was suddenly called upon to " ad- 
dress the brethren." And now, to Manson's astonishment. Elder 
Briarly rose and delivered a fierce philippic against all Gentiles, from 
that very uncompromising text: "He that is not for us, is against us." 
The jNIormons, be it noted, have a most unhappy facility of get- 
ting hold of all the hard, uncharitable (I say it with reverence) 
texts in the Bible ; and while they preach a thousand sermons a year 
on this text, not one of them was ever known to quote the rendering 
given by another Evangelist: "He that is not against us, is on our 
part." 

Manson fairly shuddered while the elder launched metaphorical 
fire and brimstone on "our enemies, who luive followed us to these 
valleys of the mountains," and denounced every lax saint who favored 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 359 

the ungodly Babylonians. Thence he branched off to the history of 
the Church, and recounted more persecutions than were suffered by the 
early Christians. Racks, hatchets, swords and dungeons glimmered 
through his sermon in mazy confusion, and he galloped recklessly 
over bloody figures of speech like an oratorical Bashi-Bazouk. Man- 
son was positively frightened, and suffered two weeks more of self-tor- 
menting fancies before he dared venture to see Marian. It was now 
late autumn, and the evening was cold, but his head felt hot enough 
as he turned the familiar corner in the sixth ward. To his amaze- 
ment, as he met the father coming out, the latter bowed low, spoke 
most graciously, then glanced around and hurried away as if he had 
been stealing a sheep ! What ?r«.s the matter, thought Manson, that 
people in these peaceful valleys should be so afraid of each other? 
Surely this was the quietest city on the continent. Every traveler 

said so, and yet . 

There was Marian, alone in tlie large orchard and garden combined, 
which surrounds these Mormon dwellings. She smiled faintly, ex- 
tended her hand, and said something about " neglecting old friends." 
The hot blood rushed over him. His native "Hoosier" impulsive- 
ness had the mastery. He never could have told you how he did it — 
how then can I? But he had her hand. He was kissing it. He was 
pouring out passionate words. Now he had her in his arms. He 
said every thing — and nothing. He left every sentence unfinished. 
His speech could not have been reported by a lightning phonogra- 
pher. There were no connected words in it, indeed. But it had the 
essential element of strength. And at the end of it, they were far 
back in a thicket; his hat was upon the ground, her head upon his 
shoulder, and he felt as if he needed a dozen arms and hands. And 
yet the innocent fellow did not know if his prayer had been granted. 
Time was needed to make it clear to his mind. But after the storm 
came a great calm of enjoyment. The cold night was unheeded bv 
the happy lovers, till the step of her father returning from the "expe- 
rience meeting" aroused them to the painful fact that they were still 
in a world of difficulties, and that much lay between them and the 
fruition of their hopes. But Manson went home as if he trod on air. 
He was too happy to sleep. The first revulsion came when, at the 
usual hour next day, he saw Elder Briarly enter. But now the pecul- 
iarities of the elder seemed tenfold increased. He talked in a loud 
and aggressive tone with the few Mormon customers. When thev had 
gone, he seemed to fall into a reverie. Manson felt instinctivelv that 
the elder had learned all from his daughter, and his heart beat witli 



360 WESTERN WILDS. 

fearful violence whenever the latter approached him ; but every timo. 
the elder would again turn away in silence. The suspense became 
unbearable. At length there came a lull in the morning business. 
Briarly went to the door as if to leave. He passed into the street, 
and looked both ways, then suddenly reentered, and came hurriedly to 
tlie rear end, where Manson stood. The latter leaned forward, un- 
certain whether he was to be denounced or pleasantly entreated, and 
was about to speak, when the elder hurriedly inclined his mouth to 
the Gentile's ear, and hissed rather than whispered: 

" In God's name, is there any way we can get out of this infernal 
country?" 

The light step of a Mormon woman was heard at the door. The 
elder turned with a cheery greeting and loud laugh ; then passed at 
once into the street, leaving Manson almost petrified with amazement. 

It was midwinter, and there was another Gentile panic. The 
"outsiders" had thought their troubles over; that law was to reign in 
Utah. But in the spring, S. N. Brassfield was shot dead while walk- 
ing the streets in the custody of an officer. In October, Dr. Robin- 
son was brutally assassinated. Non-Mormon settlers on the public 
lands were mobbed, shot, thrown in the Jordan, and driven away. 
Willie Manson thought he had troubles enough, when one day a pale, 
spiritless looking man entered the store, and said he was Thomas 
James! Oh, no! It could not be, thought Manson. Not the bold 
horseman who had cut his way through ranks of brave Bannocks ! 
Not the stout young Briton who had done and dared so much in 
Montana ! Yet it was. But not the same. Never to be the same 
again. For now Manson listened to a narrative that chilled his 
blood with horror. Thomas James had suffered at the hands of the 
priesthood the last terrible indignity that man can suffer — compared 
with which murder is a light offense. A creature walked abroad, 
called by the same name; but Thomas James, the yeoman, would never 
again dare death in Indian combat, or rival a bishop in love. Where 
could he go, and what could he do? asked his pitying friend. He 
was not alone. Utah in that sad time contained more than one who 
had suffered like him — meii, so-called, shrinking along the streets, 
ashamed to meet their kind. For, let this misfortune come how it 
may, on innocent or guilty, while reason protests that we ought not 
to despise such a one, the subtle instinct of manhood commands that 
we shall. 

Thomas James went south with a party going to San Bernardino ; 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 361 

and in due time the report reached Salt Lake City that he had died 
there, insane. Bishop Warren extended his possessions, and was a 
father unto his people. There was peace and order in his bishoprick; 
the apostle in charge of Cache Valley recommended this good stew- 
ard for reward; and strangely enough, when Brigham asked his will, 
the bishop only wanted another wife, as he had but four, and his 
kingdom was not increasing as fast as he could wish. To Christina 
Jahnsen, sorrowful and lonely, came the good sisters with a world of 
good advice. Innuendoes, hints at what had been said and heard, 
insinuations that her lover had boasted of his conquest, parts of let- 
ters said to have been written — all these skillfully woven into an im- 
posing lie — soon did their work. Believing herself doubly betrayed, 
a sinner against God and a traitor to the Church, she submitted to 
whatever was required ; and before the winter was past the Endow- 
ment House Avitnessed the sacrifice of another victim, and the fatherly 
bishop went home with his young wife. The laws of Zion had been 
vindicated. Virtue, according to the Mormon idea, had been pro- 
tected; the daughters of Zion were warned, and the careful bishop 
had his reward. 

But the married woman soon learns what the ignorant girl could 
not even have suspected. She learned too soon that she had been 
cruelly deceived. That calm nature was aroused, and the lovely woman 
had a devil in her heart. Then began the battle. It was a weak 
woman against a whole community ; an individual against a system. 
Fierce as a fury she flew upon her " husband," and cursed him with 
frantic vehemence. She raved and prayed by turns; she could not 
yet cast off her faith in Mormonism, but she hated it because it was 
true. Then came the "counsel" of ward teachers; the direction to 
humble herself, to make her peace with the man who was her " head 
in Christ." But she raved on. It was now insanity. Then was 
pronounced the common verdict in such cases: "Possessed of a devil." 
The elders came with the holy oil and laying on of hands. But the 
"possession " would not be charmed away. Then she was bound down 
"till such time as the devil should cease to afflict her." 

About her came all the canting sisterhood, the malignant, the 
stupid, the fanatical, to preach " submission to the Avill of God." " It 
is the duty of us all, Sister. Brother Warren is an upright man, 
a faithful Saint; he will give you a great exaltation in the eternities. 
With a Gentile you would be a servant, world without end. 
Just think, dear Sister, how dreadful to be a hewer of wood and 
drawer of water through all eternity for other women, when you 



362 WESTERN WILDS. 

might have been a queen in the celestial heavens." Still she raved, and 
railed on the Church and all the priesthood. Again was she bound; 
again the holy oil and laying on of" hands. Then "the devil left her." 
A strange calm followed. The faithful rejoiced over a sister restored. 
She M'cnt about her duties in silence and submission. But there was 
that in her eye which the dull brethren abinit her did not note; there 
was a far away look, that showed a mind set on something the eye 
could not see. An inward fever scorched her blood, and dried up the 
sources of her beauty. Her child was born and died, but she heeded 
it not. Two years passed, and the bishop's " favorite and No. 5" began 
already to be known as the bishop's "old woman." Another year, 
and she was away from Logan ; now on the bishop's ranehe, in Bear 
River Valley. The bishoj) now had another " favorite," a No. 6 ; and 
few who noticed No. 5 at her wearing tasks, " taking care of things 
at the ranehe," ever stopped to think how fast the bishop's late favor- 
ite had become an "old woman," or to wonder that that head, fast 
turning gray, and that wrinkled face, could belong to a woman over 
wdiose head but twenty-five years had passed. At length there came 
a night when the storm was abroad upon the desert. The fierce wind 
howled along the Humboldt Range, gathered the red sand in ghastly 
pillars that rolled over Promontory Range, and swept w^ith blinding 
force upon the eastern valley. People said : ^' It is one of our worst 
dust storms — it will purify the air," and thought of the season, the 
crops and their several material gains. But the dust storm grew to a 
tornado; and when it passed, the crazy log-hut on the bishop's ranehe 
was in ruins. A calm and glorious morning followed the storm; the 
Utah valleys never looked more peaceful than then. But in that 
storm a greater storm had been stilled. Beneath the pitying stars 
that shone through the flying clouds that night, a soul had found 
release ; another subject had deserted from Brigham's kingdom, and 
the sad Danish girl was young again in the heaven of her beloved. 

^ ;}; ^: ^ :); ^ ;!; ;K ;|c 

The mystery of his intended father-in-law M'as no longer a mystery 
to AVillie Manson. The elder had long been apostate in heart, and 
secretly mourned his inability to escape from his bondage. But how 
could he break the ties which bound him in Utah? He now had 
three wives, but every day he secretly thanked God that the last one 
was childless. Ten years lie had lived in polygamy, and Marian 
had nine half-brothers and sisters. Could he leave these innocent 
cues in this country? And could he hope to get them safely away? 
Could he trust his own wives, whom the ward teachers, in accordance 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 363 

with the "secret ritual," examined separately every week? Could he 
trust his dearest friend ? Was there any one or any thing in this land 
of intrigue and priestly supervision, who would be true? How 
often did he gaze upon the snowy summits of the Wasatch, and curse 
the hour when he made himself a virtual prisoner in these valleys ! 
It was easy to say that the laws of the country protected him in 
going where he pleased. But there was another law here more pow- 
erful than any written law. His property was " consecrated " by 
deeds which he once thought a mere form, but now knew to be 
valid. The church owned it all, if the trustee-in-trust but chose to 
exercise his power. In his days of fanaticism he had bound himself 
by the "Perfect Oneness in Christ," and now all he had was security 
for all the other members of his "quorum." Though he had paid 
his own passage and that of Marian from Liverpool to Salt Lake, 
yet he had, as requested by the bishop in charge, indorsed the notes 
for passage money of a dozen of his poorer brethren ; and he knew 
too well that all these notes were ready to be presented at a mo- 
ment's notice. And the good bishops and apostles who constitute 
the Utah Legislature had taken excellent care on this j^oint. For a 
resident there was no end of exemptions ; it was scarcely possible to 
collect a debt by law. But for "one intending to leave the Terri- 
tory" — it was expressly enacted that there was no exemption. And 
if one should try to leave before every debt was paid, there was the 
law against "absconding debtors" — they could be imprisoned "at 
the discretion of the court." And such a court ! The probate 
judge of each county was the presiding bishop thereof — the sworn 
servant of Brigham Young. Verily, the " cut-throat laws of 
Utah " were made by men who have had experience in ecclesi- 
astical tyranny. 

For three years Elder Briarly had lived a stupendous lie. Know- 
ing himself to be an apostate, suspecting himself to be the object of 
suspicion, he thought, as thousands have thought, to make his posi- 
tion more secure by a show of zeal. And then his wives — what was 
he to do with them ? He was but a man, and in his secret soul he 
confessed that he loved the one, was indifferent to the second, and 
positively detested the third. What if the detested one should pen- 
etrate his designs? He groaned in spirit at the thought. There was 
nothing for him but determined reticence ; and so his home life was 
a continuing lie — a lie so complex, so gigantic, that it corrupted 
every element of his nature, and changed him from a man and 
a Briton to a self-despised thing. And so it must be wath every 



364 WESTERN WILDS. 

man in polygamy, unless, like the Oriental, lie regard his women 
as playthings or slaves, and look with lordly indifference upon 
them all. 

But there came a time when he must choose. He could no longer 
stand behind the door and grit his teeth when the troubles of polyg- 
amy pressed upon him. Brigham was now inaugurating schemes 
which would make every submissive Mormon a slave. He must es- 
cape with Avhatever he could take, or whoever would go with him, 
and trust the others to follow. Very secretly he made a few prepa- 
rations, Manson assisting as far as was safe. Assuredly there was 
need of caution. The Gentiles were in a condition of panic. The 
few soldiers at Camp Douglas were of no avail in the city. In one 
instance a guard had been sent to see that Miss Sarah Carmichael, 
the poetess, reached the stage coach in safety ; but this was an ex- 
periment not to be repeated. The President of the United States 
was now devoting his mighty energies to thwarting the Republican 
party; and in Utah every Federal official suspected of "radicalism'^ 
was removed, and a Mormon put in his place. Burton, the murderer 
of the Morrisites, held the best office in the Territory. One Federal 
judge was a Mormon elder. The Governor was expressly instructed 
" not to irritate the Mormons." Other officials were the subservient 
tools of Brigham Young. Among the army officers alone could the 
harassed Gentiles and apostates hope to find friends. At length the 
general commanding the department announced that an expedition 
would start for the Missouri River on a certain day. and whoever 
would might "travel under their protection through the Indian coun- 
ti'lj.''^ The priesthood laughed at this wording, and sneered at the 
Gentile officer for thus insinuating that any one wanted to leave 
Utah. The night before the day set, there was not a sign of prepa- 
ration in the city. Daylight next morning showed a caravan of two 
hundred people camped about the garrison : men, women and chil- 
dren, miserably equipped indeed, but eager for the journey. Among 
them were Manson and the Briarlys. They had got away with little 
indeed, — whatever the elder could convert into ready money, besides 
his one team and wagon. The rest of his property would go ac- 
cording to the apostolic law of "laying on of hands." But he 
had all his children, and two "wives." For the one some provision 
must be made in the States. For the present it was enough to get 
away. 

The snow yet lay deep in the passes, and the winter wind still 
howled over the high plains ; but Manson confessed himself strangely 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 365 

happy in the midst of all the hardships. For now he had a recog- 
nized right to care for Marian. The miseries of the journey so 
early in the season need not be recounted. The open sky, or a rude 
tent, for women and children in March and April, on the high plains, 
would seem bad enough ; but to Marian and her father they were lux- 
ury itself compared with what they remembered of their journey out. 
They mourned their kinsman, Thomas James, who had gone south a 
few days before their departure ; but for themselves they rejoiced over 
every mile put between them and Utah. The mountains were 
})assed, and early summer found them on the Missouri, eleven years 
after they had left it as fanatical Mormons. Eleven years, from the 
short span of life, in what had been to Elder Briarly a school of deg- 
radation. 

A new era had set in. The Pacific Railroad was pushing westward, 
and paper cities were springing up along its way. Leaving his 
friends in Iowa, Manson again turned his face westward, determined 
to win a fortuue before he should claim Marian for his own. Through 
all the ups and downs of that strange moving community, from 
Cheyenne to Promontory, he toiled on, ever keeping in mind the 
prize that awaited him, and thus guarded against the temptations 
which prevailed over so many. The autumn of 1869 found him 
ao;ain in Utah, now amone; the new mines which were everv-where 
being opened. His old friend. Hank Briarly, was exploring the west 
mountains, and urged Manson to join him. Before determining his 
course, business called him to Green River. There, as he walked 
amid the ruins of that railroad "city," he was astonished at being 
accosted by a lady of pleasant aspect, but with a face on which 
trouble had left its mark. She had visited in turn every railroad 
town, and her one inquiry was, "Do you know any man about here 
by the name of Henry Beatty ? " 

Startled as Manson was by this inquiry, some instinct made him 
cautious in his reply. Yes, he did know him, and he believed Beatty 
was now in Utah. The lady overwhelmed him with thanks, and ac- 
companied him on the next train to Ogden. Her joy prevailed over 
her reserve. She talked to Manson as an old friend. While she 
gently complained of the loug silence of her husband, she yet found 
a thousand excuses for him. 

"He was so high spirited," she said, "and not willing to plod 
along the common road. I am English born, you know, and had 
property left me in my own name ; and it worried Mr. Beatty that he 
should not add as much more ; and nine years ago — dear me, hoAV 



366 WESTERN WILDS. 

lon(^ it seems — nine years ago he went to California, and then to 
Montana." 

Manson Avinced as he remembered some things in that experience, 
and dreaded something to come, he knew not what ; bnt he hckl his 
peace. They had taken the coach at Ogden, and were fast sjjeeding to- 
wards Salt Lake, when the lady resnmed : 

" For a long time he wrote so rcgnlarly ; then not so often, and now 
for eight months I have not heard a word. At first I thought it was 
because he was coming home; and then I got afraid he might be 

." She shuddered and paused. But she was too much pleased 

with the information Manson had given her to treat him as a stranger, 
and continued her reminiscences. 

Tliev reached the city, and Mrs. Beatty could scarcely rest till she 
had learned that her husband had gone to Tooele, and had secured a 
seat in the next coach for that place. Meanwhile she made a few pur- 
chases, and again sent for Manson to make some inquiries. As she 
mechanically unrolled the articles she had bought, talking cheerfully 
to her new-found friend, her eye fell upon an old copy of the Salt 
Lake Telegraph, in which they were wrapped. Suddenly her cheerful 
tones ceased. For a minute she held the paper, with her eyes fixed 
upon it, then a loud scream rang through the hotel, and she sank ap- 
parently lifeless upon the parlor floor. 

There was a commotion in the hotel. The landlady and chamber- 
maids hurried to help the strange lady. Manson knew that the evil 
he dreaded had come, whatever it was. When the lady had revived a 
little, and been taken 'to her room, he picked up the Telegraph and 
read this : 

LEGAL NOTICE. 

'^rSxELE^CoUNrY'^SS' } ^^ '^^ Probate Court of Tooele County, October Session, 1868. 
Henry Beatty us. Sarah Ann Beatty. 
Action for Divorce. 
Defendant in the above entitled cause will take notice that plaintiff has filed his com- 
plaint in this court, and due publication been made thereof according to law; that 
plaintiff seeks complete legal separation from said defendant, and exemption from all 
the liabilities of matrimony. Cause alleged: Abandonment and refusal of said de- 
fendant to live with him in marriage. Now, therefore, defendant is notified that un- 
less she appear at the ensuing term of this court, to be holden at the court-house in 
Tooele City, on the first Monday in December, 1868, and make due answer, said 
case will be heard and determined in her absence. 

John Woodbury, Judge P. C, Tooele County. 

W11-.SON Snow, Clerk P. C, Tooele County. 

— [Salt Lake Telcffruph. w-5t. 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 



367 



Five weeks passed, and a pale shadow of the cheery English lady- 
was seated in the Tooele coach. She made no complaints, but rode 
the long, weary way in silence. Arrived at the Mormon village, siie 
inquired her way, and proceeded to a neat cabin in the outskirts. In 
answer to her knock, the door was opened by an apple-faced but 




" LET ME LOOK TOWARD OLD ENGLAND BEFORE I DIE." 

pleasant looking young Mormon woman, with that flush complexion 
and sort of florid beauty often seen among the young Saints. 

" L)oes Henry Beatty live here?" 

" Yes, ma'am ; will you walk in ? " 

"Are you his wife?" asked the strange lady, with rigid countenance, 
and paying no heed to the polite invitation. 



368 WESTERN WILDS. 

" Yes, ma'am." (This with a slight courtesy.) "I'm his wife Dese- 
reta, but he married my sister Nellie the sauie day. Maybe its her 
you want to see. But she's with him now, up at the mine." 

" No," was the reply. " I only wanted to sec who it was that had 
caused Henry Beatty to forget his family and his God. But if there's 
two of you, I know enough. Good-day." And she moved silently 
back to the hotel, and took the return coach for Zion. No one in- 
quired particularly about her; no one asked any questions about the 
notice of divorce eight months before. The bishop was satisfied with 
it, and the council had directed that " Brother Beatty be ftillow- 
shiped," and that was enough. "Mind your own business," was the 
rule in Tooele as well as in Logan. 

The late autumn found our strange friend lying on a lounge in an 
eastern city, "only waiting till she should get strong enough to make 
the voyage." She had disposed of all her property in this blessed 
land of equal rights and wholesome laws, and was going back to 
monarchical England, where a man can not marry two wives in a 
day, or a woman be divorced without knowing it. Her Yankee 
friends said her head was " turned " by her troubles, or she never 
would have preferred despotism to liberty. She was but one of ten 
thousand whom the laws of Utah — tacitly approved by the American 
Congress — have crucified. 

But she had not gained strength as fast as the doctor predicted. 
She had gazed out of the open window whole hours at the vessels in 
the bay, but now she seemed to lack energy. Suddenly she spoke : 
" Let me look toward Old England once more before I die." 

The attendant raised her gently. She gazed long and lovingly over 
the blue ocean, then lay down and, with one brief prayer for Henry, 
passed away. 

* ^,: * * * * ^ * 

"Willie has struck chloride! Willie has struck chloride!" shouted 
Marian, dancing into her mother's room with an open letter in her 
hand, greatly astonishing that worthy woman, to whom this lan- 
guage was scarcely more intelligible than Greek. She had not read all 
that long series of interesting letters, running through the year since 
Willie Manson and his partner settled down on Lion Hill, to dig for 
a fortune ; and, in her ignorance, was about to ask who " chloride " 
was, and if he would strike back, when Marian continued: 

" Willie has struck chloride ! He can sell out for fifty thousand 
dollars, and he's coming home right away, and — and — " She con- 
siderately paused. 



THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION. 



369 



Marian had but one " mother" now. In tlie old Utah days she had 
addressed her flither's wives as " Auntie," according to the safe cus- 
tom in vogue then ; but since the other " Auntie " had found a home 
somewhere else, and her father's house had but one mistress, she had 
promoted her to be addressed as " Mother." 

Yes, Manson had " struck chloride," and though the vein was not 
so rich by some millions 
of dollars as the sanguine 
partners had expected, 
they sold it for enough to 
satisfy Manson; and be- 
fore the autumn of 1870 
had passed, he once more 
held Marian in his arms. 
And now I, the writer 
hereof, am embarrassed; 
for, if I continue the 
story, I can not dwell on 
miners, M o r m o n s and 
Indians, mountains, mines 
and adventures. The de- 
tails of a marriage are 
beyond my scope. Suffice 
it, then, to say, that Willie 
Manson and Marian Bri- 
arly were made one, after 
all their troubles, and con- 
tentedly settled down in 
Iowa, determined t here 
to spend the remainder of 
their days. "willie has struck chloride." 

And that firm resolution they kept just six months. 
For, Avhen the south wind blew softly, in May, 1871, they looked 
around them and missed something. They did not see the circling 
peaks, their summits ever glistening with snow ; nor the blue waves 
of the Salt Lake, nor the crystal streams pouring from the hills; and, 
as they looked into each other's faces, Marian expressed the desire of 
both, saying : " AVhat a glorious place Salt Lake will be when things 
get fixed." 

Once confessed, her longing increased. She was desperately home- 
sick. The troubles were forgotten, the joys remembered ; distance 
24 




;^70 WESTERN WILDS. 

blended lier life in Utah into one pleasing whole. What was there in 
this prairie State to take the place of her beloved mountains? Where 
was the rocky caflon, with ever-varying beauty of gorge, crag, and 
wooded slope? where the gray and blue peaks standing out sharply 
against the rosy evening sky ? where the Great Salt Lake, now spread 
out like a molten mirror in the summer calm, now sparkling in the 
light breeze, now tossing its white caps in the storm? There was a 
calm beauty in the rolling prairie ; but where was the wild charm of 
the Utah valley? The calm rivers had their pleasant features — for 
Iowa people — but what could take the place of crystal streams dashing 
down rocky canons, of bright water-seeks gurgling by the road-side, 
of the sacred Jordan and its mountain affluents? There was no charm 
in this land for the eye of a mountaineer ; and soon Manson also con- 
fessed that, for good or ill, he must some day live in the shadow of the 
Wasatch. 

After thatr their progress Avas rapid. They could not live away 
from the mountains. And, as I sat in front of their tasteful cottage, 
overlooking the city from the first " bench," and heard their story, I 
did not wonder at their conclusion ; for surely there are few places in 
this world which so charm the resident as Salt Lake City. Drink of 
its waters, walk its streets for one year, and you will ever long to 
return. Give but good government, and intelligent society, and Utah 
would be to me even as the home of the soul — Salt Lake City, the 
particular spot at which I would pitch my tent forever. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

SWINGING 'round THE CIRCLE. 

ZiON was hot in a double sense when I reached it in July, 1872. 
The season was unusually warm ; the Saints and Gentiles were con- 
ducting a bitter politico-religious campaign, and the nation was dis- 
tracted by the spectacle of Horace Greeley running for President on 
the Democratic ticket. The Mormons all swore by Greeley, and 
prophecies of his election were abundant. He had visited them in 
his overland journey of 1858, and out of his letters they had man- 
aged to pick many comforting passages ; while the " Squatter sov- 
ereignty " doctrine of Stephen A. Douglas had suited their position so 
admirably, that they inevitably became zealous Democrats. The con- 
test was not pleasant to a traveler, and, after a ten days' visit, I jour- 
neyed on to Soda Springs, then ambitiously styled " The future Sara- 
toga of the West." 

Leaving Corinne, Sunday, August 4th, on a narrow-guage mule, I 
spent the first night with a Mormon rancher in Cache Valley. This 
beautiful region was long the winter rendezvous of the North-west 
Fur Company, and many are the legends of grand councils here with 
Shoshone, Bannock and Uintah; of love-making between swarthy- 
trappers and dusky maidens; of grand revels, often ending in a free 
fight, in which ordinary hostile divisions were ignored, and every man 
went in for personal revenge. Now it is the abode of 15,000 Mor- 
mons, and the granary of Utah. The valley, or rather basin, is in- 
closed on all sides by lofty mountains, their summits tipped with snow 
in mid-summer. Through it Bear River runs in many a winding maze 
for seventy miles, and from all sides bright crystal affluents join the 
main stream, each singing of the snowy heights whence it came. The 
traveler along one side of the valley sees all the Mormon villages on 
the other side, each set back in a little cove, but those near him are 
hidden by the projecting mountain spurs. 

From the upper part of Cache (" concealed ") Valley, the road rises 
to a rocky plateau. There the Bear River makes a big bend to the 
north, and the mountains, which have followed close on its eastern 
bank for a hundred miles, give back, and we find here a broad, green 

(371i 



372 



WESTERN WILDS. 



valley some ten miles wide. The floor, so to .speak, of this valley is 
iron; upon it is a heavy stratum of rich earth, and through it, in a 
hundred places, the subterraneous waters and gases have forced their 
Avay. The plain is dotted by soda mounds from five to thirty feet in 
height, and every-wherc upon and among them arc the soda-fountains. 
Some boil furiously with a loud, bubbling noise and escape of gas ; 




SHOSHONEES WITH ANNUITY GOODS. 

others show but a faint effervescence; some are always calm, and 
never overflow, while others send out large and constant streams, and 
still others sink a foot or two when the air is cool, and rise to an 
overflow when it is warm. The springs on the soda mounds, arc 
mere tanks, but a few inches wide, sending out such faint streams that 
all the solid contents are precipitated, and the Avater quite evaporated 
before reaching the plain. 

Some of the mounds have risen so high that the water has broken 
out elsewiiere, and thus new mounds are being slowly built. In some 
springs the chemical mixture is pure soda, in others pure iron, in still 



swiyoixG 'HOUND the circle. 373 

others iron, soda and salt mixed. The best tonic ii fror.i the Octa- 
gon Spring, contuining about equal parts of iron and soda, with slight 
admixture of other elements. Invalids insist that the iirst drink does 
them good, and that they improve every day they use it. On me its 
chief eifcct was to create a marvelous appetite. The Ninety-per- 
cent Spring, which Gentiles also call the Anti-polygamy Spring, is 
most heavily charged of all. Of the solid contents, ninety per cent, is 
pure soda; the rc-t some mineral or salt which has strange effects on 
the male human. A few quarts of it will destroy i\\Q strongest faith 
in the necessity for polygamy. This lasts but a few days, however. 

Hooper's Spring is the largest raid perhaps the greatest curiosity. 
It is a rod wide, and presents tli.e appearance of an immense caldron 
boiling furiously; but the water is very cool, and rather pleasant to 
the taste. The vale near by is covered with heavy grass, which lines 
t!ie spring and hangs into the water; on all sides rise the majestic 
mountains, and f:-oni the poof a stream six feet wide and a foot deep 
ilows into Soda Creek. The water contains nothing but soda, and all 
of that it will hold in solution. Mixed with sugar of lemons it 
makes a drink equal to the best from a patent fountain. 

Near by, "Wm. H. Hooper, late Mormon delegate in Congress, has 
a summer residence. The elevation of the valley is some 6,500 feet 
above sea-level, and the climate iu August about like that of Ociober 
in the States. Farther up the vale may be seen the Formation 
Springs, where the dripping chemicals have molded a thousand fan- 
ciful shapes; and down near the river is Steamboat S])ring, from 
which the water bursts forth at brief intervals with a Joud '^' cou^di.'-' 
like the "scape" of a slowly moving distant steam-boat. In a score 
of places in the bed of the river are springs emittiivj; water loaded 
with various minerals and gases, from wliich the bright bubbles play 
upon the surface. A little way up the river are sulphur springs, and 
over the mountain eastward is a wooded region abounding in game. 
The vale itself, some ten miles siquarc, seems set apart by nature as a 
region of curiosities. The only inhabitants are a few IMorrisite 
Mormons^ the remnants of some two hundred taken there bv General 
Connor in 186:1; and the few Americans who hold an interest with 
Mr. Hooper in the h>cation. The only hotel is a ramblin<r lo'^-cabin, 
and all surroundings are rural and primitive in the extreme. But 
when the narrow-guage road is completed there from Ogden, I fancy 
this place will drop the prefix " future," and become at least the Sara- 
toga of Utah and Idaho. 

Frojn my Idaho jaunt I returned to the Union Pacific, and late in 



S74 WESTERN WILDS. 

August left Ogden for St. Louis in one of those rolling palaces which 
make travel over this line such a delight. What a change from the 
back of an ambling American horse, on which I made the tour of Ari- 
zona ! And I could but ask myself, somewhat doubtfully, too : shall 
I ever roll along the line of the Thirty-fifth Parallel Road in a Pull- 
man palace, as I now ride where four years ago I toiled with mule 
teams? The change would be no greater than I have seen here. 

As I neared the Missouri I read that twenty persons had died of 
sunstroke in one day at St. Louis. And I had spent most of the sum- 
mer where one needed two blankets at night to keep him warm ! I 
concluded to wait a week at the delightful city of Lawrence, till nat- 
ure should cool things off. The same temperature in the East is 
much more debilitating to one just from the mountains; it appears 
more steamy and weakening than in the dry air of Utah and Arizona. 
But the last night of August a tremendous thunder-storm swept over 
Kansas and Missouri, and lowered the mercury twenty-five degrees! 
So I visited St. Louis in comfort, and thence started to make the trip 
over the Northern Pacific Railroad. 

One day I lingered at Nauvoo, for I had long been curious to see 
this old stronghold of the Mormons. Their elders are never weary of 
telling the people that it is now a ruin, desolate as Tyre or Babylon. 
I found it a beautiful town of some 3,000 people. It has tlie pretti- 
est site in Illinois. The river makes a bend westward nearly in the 
shape of a U ; the point in the lower part is a mile wide, and lies 
just high enough above the river for commercial convenience; and 
thence the hill rises by gentle slopes for two miles eastward. At the 
upper end of the flat on the river is a splendid steam-boat landing, 
and about half way around the bend the rapids begin, giving a fine 
front for manufacturing purposes. Here the Mormons had projected a 
row of cotton mills; they were to bring the cotton up the river, and 
with their own operatives, converted from the workshops of England, 
build up a great manufacturing conwnunity. Could they have main- 
tained peace with their neighbors, they would have had some fifteen 
years to perfect this scheme before the railroad era superseded river 
transportation, and Nauvoo would have had too great a start for the 
tide to turn. They and their apologists of course maintain that the 
Gentiles were altogether to blame for the breaking up of these fine 
schemes; but Avhen a man moves six or seven times, and quarrels 
with the neighbors every time, as they did, I am inclined to conclude 
that he takes the worst neighbor along with him every move. 

After the Mormons came the Icarians, a curious but harmless set 



SWIXGING 'BOUND THE CIRCLE. 



375 



of visionaries. It was the era when communistic experiments were 
in operation all over the country — the era immediately succeeding 
"Brook Farm/' Communia, and Robert Onvcu's New Harmony Soci- 
ety. The Icarians, under the lead of M. Cabet, wore a uniform, had 
all things in common, and worked in detailed squads. But when one 
man, or an executive board, has to choose what work every other man 
shall do, it soon appears a most unnatural system as opposed to 
" natural selection." Here was to be seen a former college professor 
herding swine ; there a Paris goldsmith driving oxen, and a well- 
known scholar, crack-brained on socialistic theories, was made assist- 
ant sawyer at the society's mill. It cured him, however. 

The Icarians failed, of course, .and were in due time succeeded by a 
colony of Bavarians and Westphalians, who have made a great success 
of the wine manufac- 
ture. Where the great 
Mormon temple once 
stood is now a fine vine- 
yard, and not one of 
the original stones re- 
mains. Three of the 
neighboring houses are 
built entirely of the 
beautiful white rock, 
and the rest has made 
walls and foundations 
all over town. This 
wonderful structure cost 
between a half and 
three-quarters of a mill- 
ion dollars in money 
and labor, and the Icar- 
ians had proposed to fit 
it up as a social hall and school-room. But at 2 A. M. of November 
10, 1848, it was found to be on fire, and before daylight every particle 
of woodwork was destroyed. It was set on fire in the third story of 
the steeple, one hundred and forty feet from the ground. The dry 
pine burned like tinder; there was no mode of reaching the fire, and 
in twenty minutes the whole wooden interior was a mass of flames. 
In two hours nothing remained but hot walls, inclosing a bed of em- 
bers. At Montrose and Fort Madison, Iowa, they could distinguish 
every house in Nauvoo, and the light was seen forty mik^s around. 




BURNING OF THE MORMON TEMPLE. 



37G WESTERN WILDS. 

Joe Agnew, of Pontoosuc, fourteen miles above Nauvoo, afterwards 
confessed that he set it on fire. He had suffered at the hands of the 
Mormons, and sworn no trace of them should cumber the soil of 
Illinois. 

The walls long stood in such perfect preservation that the citizens 
determined again to refit it for an academy. But in November, 1850, 
a fearful hurj-icane swept down the river, and threw down most of the 
structure. From the deck of a Mississippi steamer Nauvoo, Mhich 
once had fourteen thousand inhabitants, now looks like a suburb of 
retired country scats, stretching for two or three miles up a handsome 
slope ; and thousands yearly pass on the river admiring the rural beauty 
of the place, but little thinking that a third of a century since it was 
the largest city in Illinois, and the most, notorious in America, the 
chosen stronghold of a most peculiar faith and destined capital of 
a vast religious empire. 

Thence by steamer to Burlington, and thence by the Burlington & 
Missouri River Railroad to Council Bluffs. There I took the north- 
ward route, and in due time arrived at Sioux City, which had greatly 
improved in the year since I last visited it. The '•' HaMkeyes," 
(State designation for Iowa people), are a progressive race; but the 
" lay of the country" is suc)i that their energy must ever tend to build 
up a great State rather than any one great city. The growth of lovra 
in wealth and population is amazing, but she has no metropolis which 
takes the place Chicago does in Illinois or St. Louis in Missouri. 
Her development is destined to proceed on a diliereut plan. 

We staged it again to Yankton, along the line where the S. C. & 
Y. Railroad now runs; and found the inhabitants hotly engaged in 
the great job of saving the country. Dakota Territory has always 
been noted for the heat and acrimony of her politics; and though the 
Grant-dreeley campaign was marked for its bitterness, the storm in 
the r^'st of the nation was as the balminess of a INIay morning com- 
pared with its fury in Dakota. Now, General McCook, Secretary of 
the Territory, and one of the "Fighting ]\IcCook's," was the central 
figure of a local quarrel. A year or two later he attacked a delicate 
little banker nan^ed Wintermute, and pounded him almost to a jelly. 
Wintermute walked out, procured a pistol, and returning, shot Mc- 
Cook dead in the ball-room ! I could not join in the cry for venge- 
ance which went over the country, for I knew the slayer to be a 
naturally inoffensive nuui, who had been cruelly outraged. INIost of 
the Federal officials made it a personal matter to assist in the pros- 
ecution of Wintermute, but western juries are ju-overbially lenient 



SWINGING 'ROUND THE CIRCLE. 



377 




in such cases. He was sentenced to a few years imprisonment; but 
his delicate constitution could not survive the beating and the sen- 
tence, and consumption soon took him beyond the reach of eartlily 
courts. I shall ever maintain that he was the real victim of the 
tragedy, and should never have been imprisoned. 

Our party had various opinions as to the best way to see the 
country on the North 



Pacific line. The first 
plan was to take a team 
and go up the eastern 
side of the Territory, 
by way of the beautiful 
valley of James River, 
then over the divide and 
northward down Red 
River. The distance 
was tliree h u n d r e d 
miles; there were long 
stretches of country 
without a settlement, 

T ,T , KILLING OF SECRETARY M'COOK. 

and the season was get- 
ting late. So this was in due time reconsidered. The next was to go 
up the Missouri to the proposed crossing, and stage it across to the end 
of the ro:id. But soon came a steam-boat down the river with word 
that navigation was closed for this year, though it was still early in 
September ; then we decided to return to Sioux City, and go through 
Minnesota. A man can't travel as he pleases in the new North-west. 
AVe had enough of staging, and concluded to try it by steamer 
down to Sioux City. The distance by land is sixty-five miles ; by 
river a hundred and fifty. The time is just as it happens. You 
must start when the boat is ready, and take your chances on board, 
sometimes getting through in ten hours, sometimes in thirty. "We 
made splendid time all forenoon, the low clay banks receding so rap- 
idlv that their natural ugliness was changed to a swiftly gliding view 
of something nearly like beauty. The Avater is a little thicker than 
cream, but not quite as thick as plaster, and of a dirty yellow color, 
its solid contents consisting of nearly equal parts of fine clay and silt; 
but when taken aboard and settled, it is very palatable. Immedi- 
ately on the river, the timber is small and scrubby, but a mile or so 
back are fine forests of good-sized trees, for a mile or two, and behind 
them the richest prairie "bottom "in the world, varying in width 



378 ^ WESTERN WILDS. 

from five to twenty miles, and yielding to gentle foot-hills and wooded 
bluff's. In tliree or four places the river spreads to a mile or more in 
width, broken by sand-bars and low islands; there the boat usually 
stuck fast for awhile, till the hands could " pole off," when she would 
back out and try other channels till one was found passable. 

At such times the captain cheered us with such appropriate remarks 
as: "D — d channel was on that side when I came up. Thought the 
river would take a sky-wash round the other way, judgin' from the 
set ag'in that bluff. But there's nothing impossible under this admin- 
istration. Howsomever, we'll make Sioux City by supper time, if we 
don't fall down." This last was a facetious reference to the system of 
sparring oif with the " boat's crutches." But we did " fall down " 
about noon, running hard aground on the head of a sand island, 
located probably where the channel was deepest a month before. 
Then oaths, spars, " nigger-engine " and all the other available machinery 
were set in operation; and after two hours of swearing, bell ringing, 
and toil, the stern was got far enough into the current to swing 
around; then all control of it was lost, and that end grounded below. 
Then the bow was shoved oif, swung around and stuck again ; then 
the stern made a half-circle swing, and thus on, in a series of swings 
and " drags," over half-sunken trees, tlie boat groaning through all 
her timbers like a thing possessed, we made a final swing off the lower 
end of the island, and floated on. When thoy spar thus at both ends 
they are said to " grasshopper " over the difliculty. 

lleaching Sioux City, we found there had been a fearful murder, 
two robberies and a street fight in which a dozen engaged, all within 
twenty-four hours. And still Sioux City was not happy. Thence 
we traveled north-east by way of the Sioux City & St. Paul Rail- 
road, most of the day over a country with the same general char- 
acter : a high and gently rolling prairie, without sloughs, with 
very rich soil and rank grass, but no timber. Having passed the 
" divide," we soon entered upon the system of streams flowing into 
the Minnesota River, and left the " Land of the Sleepy" for the 
" Blue-water Land." This poetic designation of Minnesota (from the 
Sioux miimc" water" and soto "blue"), is the most fitting name the 
State could have received. In the year 1859, that State was my 
residence, and even now my heart thrills at recollection of its sum- 
mer beauties: green plains, tasteful groves, crystal lakes and clear 
streams lively with fish. But here I ask the reader's permission to 
turn back thirteen years. The notes in the next chapter are from ob- 
servations both during mv residence and later visits. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



MINNESOTA. 

In July, 1859, I stood on the banks of Rum River and watched 
the long trains of Bois Brules from Pembina, slowly descending 
that stream to St. Paul. Their carts were made entirely of wood, 
from bed and wheel to lynch-pin, and were drawn, by oxen, one to 
each cart in most cases; men, carts and animals splashed and clotted 
with the black mud of the many sloughs they had crossed. The dry 
season, neglect 
and 



alternate 
soaking and 
shrinking during 
the long journey 
through the " di- 
vide " and lake 
region, had 
brought the ve- 
hicles to a 
wretched condi- 
tio n ; a n d the 
heavily dragging 
wheels kept up a 
wailing creecky, 
crawchy, creechy, 
craiochy that 
could be heard 
nearly half a mile — " a cry for grease," which went to the soul. 

The custom of these people, then, was to devote the late autumn and 
early winter to hunting and trapping; the rest of the winter was 
fairly divided between merry-making and preparing the furs and pelts 
they had taken; and when the late May sunshine had brought forward 
grass enough for their animals the trains departed southward. At St. 
Paul they sold the proceeds of their last hunt, and laid in supplies for 
the next year. The importance of the trade to St. Paul was great; 

(379) 




PEOPLE FROM PEMBINA AND THEIR OX-CARTS. 



380 WESTERN WILDS. 

for weeks one or more trains arrived (Lilly, eaeh witli from ten to two 
Imndred earts, and eaeh eart piled hi<^h with furs and skins. 

Most of tlrj drivers were of the pure Ilois r>rules ^toek, and merely 

f-;-eeted me with (he (piiek, forward jerk of the head, and the sharp 

Son-jour," whieh is the universal salutation in the North-west; i)Ut 

> -Mid there in the train was a cart of more than ordinary preten- 




WINTEK IN THE MINNESOTA PINERIES. 



sions, generally drawn by two oxen, and sometimes shielded by a 
rude awning, containing one or two white men, factors of the fur 
companies, or young Englishmen returning from the posts. Perhaps 
a score of full-blood Chippeways accompanied the train. These are 
a tall, well-made race of Indians, with a complexion redder than that 
of the Sioux or Arapahoes, not so dark and beastly looking; and their 
half-blood descendants share in all these peculiarities. 

The words Bois Brules signify "burnt woods," and hap])ily indicate 



MIXSESOTA. 381 

the cLiI-k-red complexion of the half brcecl.s. They and the Mexicans 
constitute, I believe, the only permanent types resulting from the 
union of Europeans with our Aborigines. As near as I can de- 
termine from their appearance and history, they are about half white, 
half Indian, and have long maintaine<l this blood in a condition of 
purity. They live both in our Territory and over the line, number 
thousands, and are a polite, gay and hospitable people, more musical 
than thoughtful, more lively than intelligent. The neighboring wiiites 
have corrupted the name into " Bob Ruly," as their Boia Blancs 
(White Woods), slang for white men, has in turn become " Bob Long; " 
so the original population of Pembina is made up of the two classes, 
Bob Rulys and iiob Longs. 

These are to be mentioned first, as the original settlers of Minne- 
sota. Save the occasional missionary, Indian trader, hunter or gov- 
ernment official, the country contained but few white men before 1845. 
The Chippeways (Ojibbeways) dominated the northern section, the 
Sioux the southern; and the '^ divide," between the drainage of Red 
River and Minnesota, was their border and battle-ground for ages. 
At last the whites began to crowed the Sioux, from the south ; and the 
Chippeways, under the lead of the great Pahya Goonsey— red Napo- 
leon of the North-west — drove them beyond Red River, which re- 
mains the boundary of the two races. Then French settlements 
slowlv stretched down from the north, and American up from the 
south ; and in l<S50-'55 came the great speculative era of Minnesota. 
Every new country must have such a rise— and, alas ! such a fall. 

There was for years the humbug and hurrah of the "glorious free 
and boundless West;" and in 185G and '57 every thing was selling at 
three or four times its actual value, and every third man was a mill- 
ionaire in town lots. The crash came, and the wealthy, who had 
indorsed for each other, fell like a row of bricks, each knocking down 
the next. Every man rushed off to his lawyer to sue his neighbor, 
compromise with his creditors, or put his property out of his hands. 
The laws of different legislatures were in conflict; judges construed 
them one -.vay in one court, and in another directly the opposite. The 
Democratic administration of 1858 burdened the young State with a 
heavy railroad debt, which the next administration. Republican, repu- 
diated, and on top of all this came the grasshoppers. 

The crop of 1856 w^as half destroyed ; the next year every green 
thing was eaten, the insects leaving the country black behind them. 
The crop of 1858 did not half pay taxes and debts, and when I 
arrived, in May, 1859, the mass of the people were living on corn- 



382 WESTERN WILDS. 

bread, potatoes and "green truck," with an occasional mess (?f fish 
or game. It was a nice country for a delicate young student, just 
removed from school on account of bad health. I hoed corn, drove 
teams, chopped wood and cultivated muscle. There was plenty to eat, 
such as it was, but no luxuries, and before the close of the year I was 
again in sound health. But I have no desire to repeat the experi- 
ence. There was too much pure Darwinism in such a country — " nat- 
ural selection and survival of the fittest." The man who could not 
accommodate himself rapidly to poverty and hardships, had to die 
or emigrate. 

Better crops came, and the settlers looked forward to the end of 
their troubles, when the Sioux war of 1862 suddenly cut off their 
hopes, and many of my friends in Blue-earth County were ruined, a 
few losing their lives. But the country had natural wealth in abun- 
dance, and Yankee energy has triumphed over all difficulties. After 
thirteen years I entered a rich and prosperous county by rail, where 
I had tramped, knapsack in hand, through a comparative wilderness. 
The Winnebago Reservation, unbroken by the plow when I first 
crossed it, is now a populous farming district; and Mankato, then a 
straggling village of six or eight hundred, is now a flourishing city of 
five thousand people. But the effects of the "hard times" of 1857- 
*59 still remain in many places, in the shape of interminable lawsuits, 
unsettled titles, broken fortunes, neighborhood feuds, and men whose 
energy is gone and their temper soured by disappointment. Many a 
Minnesota woman is prematurely old from the troubles of that period, 
and even in the faces of those I then knew as children I fancy I can 
see some pinching lines which ought not to mar the visage of bloom- 
ing youth, unpleasing reminders of a childhood passed without its 
natural pleasures, and stint.ed because of parental poverty. 

Thence to St. Paul I noted, with the pleasure of a pioneer, the great 
improvements of thirteen years. Hamlets have become large towns; 
unimportant towns have grown to cities. St. Paul I found nearly 
trebled in size, and lively with twenty thousand visitors attending the 
State Fair. On the grounds were specimens of vegetation from every 
spot for seven hundred miles north and west. Notable among these were 
bunches of wild rice from the northern lakes ; monster turnips and beets 
from the line of the Northern Pacific ; native grass from Red River 
Valley, four feet long, and wheat grown at Fort Garry, Red River 
Settlement, B. A., which yielded seventy bushels per acre. St. Paul 
is in the south-eastern corner, and is the natural entrepdt, of a wheat- 
growing region four hundred miles square. Fertile land continues to 



MINNESOTA. 383 

a point two hundred miles north of our national boundary; there a 
sandy desert sets in, and continues to the Arctic Circle. 

This State and Dakota Territory have many features in common. 
On the western border of the State, and forming a part of the bound- 
ary line between it and Dakota, are two lakes — Big Stone and Traverse. 
The southern one, lying north-west and south-east is Big Stone, thirty- 
one miles long and only three-fourths to one and a half miles wide, 
with bold shores fifty to eighty feet high — beautiful in summer, filled 
Avith fish and abounding in water-fowl. On its shores 50,000 people 
could witness a boat race over a course of ten miles or more. About 
it linger many curious and wild traditions of the Indians. This lake 
is simply a deep, wide river channel, resembling points on the Upper 
Mississippi, where there is no valley or low land along the river. 
Lake Traverse was originally a part of it — a continuation of it north- 
ward — resembling it in all respects. But now they are separated by 
about four miles of low valley of the same width. 

Into and through this valley runs a creek — head of the Minnesota 
River — which rises in Dakota and flows close by the south end of 
Lake Traverse and into Big Stone Lake, issuing again from its south- 
eastern end, and joining the Mississippi near St. Paul. Tiaverse is 
not so large or long as Big Stone, and as one passes along its western 
shore, the hills grow lower and recede from it. Its shores become 
marshy, and it narrows to a lagoon, and finally into a stream or river 
with scarcely a noticeable current. At Breckinridge, Minnesota, or 
Wahpeton, Dakota, this stream is joined by the Otter Tail River, a 
somewhat rapid stream of considerable volume. Where the two unite 
(the one from Traverse is called the Bois des Sioux, or properly the 
Sioux Wood River) both names cease, and the Red River of the North 
begins. It is a river at once. From this point it flows three hundred 
miles, in a right line, to Lake Winnepeg, in British America. 

The fertile valley of Red River, is about a hundred and fifty miles 
wide, half in the State and half in Dakota. Westward it yields to the 
higher lands and soon to the barren couteau, fit for nothing but scant 
pasturage. In the valley are now some of the largest wheat farms in 
the world. There a dozen or more teams can be seen in early sum- 
mer, following each other with successive furrows — plowing on the 
same " land," which is a township. The furrows are six miles long. 
They just make two rounds per day, going up and back, taking din- 
ner and then repeating. One mounted man commands the whole, and 
a cart with a few tools accompanies. If any thing befalls a plow or 
team the driver turns out and lets the other pass, starting in again 



384 WESTERN WILDS. 

Avhoii the repair is made. Upon a large wheat field, in 1876, six self- 
binding reapers worlced in like order. 

But there are other novel features. The northern boundary is the 
forty-ninth parallel. Hence the days in summer are noticeably long, 
and th<; twilight in j)roportion, so that at Pembina, June 20, it is not 
entirely dark much before 10 P. M., and early dawn begins but little 
later than 2 A. M. People who desire to sleep long retire while it is 
yet light, and darken the windows, very much as they do in Norway 
or Iceland. But winter presents a sharp contrast. Daylight delays 
till half-past nine, and dark comes soon after three. At Pembina 
one is on the 49ili degree north, while the sun in December is 23° south 
of the equator — total 72°, which from 90° leaves 18°, the height of the 
sun above the horizon at noon. The sky is often brilliantly clear for 
weeks at a time, but there is not warmth enough in the sun to loosen 
an icicle on the south side of the house. 

But it is warm enough in summer. The winter before I Avas there, 
Wright County enjoyed four months continuous sleighing. The next 
June a pumpkin- vine I measured grew four and a half inches in 
twenty-four hours. The snow is usually gone by the 10th of April; 
the ground dries rapidly, and farmers often plow upon the south slope 
while the snow still lies on the north slope. The soil has a mixture 
of black sand, and freezes so hard in winter that it never clods or 
"bakes" in summer. The local records show that the year should be 
divided thus: Winter, five months; spiring, one month; summer, four 
months; autumn, two months. The summer heat would be very op- 
pressive but for the breeze which is almost constant from the west and 
south-west. If it changes to the east, there is apt to be a cold, chilly 
rain ; if it ceases, which is rare, the heat is so great the natives can 
scarcely work. 

A suggestion to tourists is in order. Through the lakes to Duluth, 
thence by the Northern Pacific Railroad to Fargo, thence down the 
Red River — on which steamers ply all summer — to AVinnipeg and 
Garry, is a summer excursion yielding more variety in men and man- 
ners than any that can be taken in the West. The scenery is often 
sublime, though not equal to that of the Rocky Mountains, and al- 
ways beautiful. The lakes are alive with fish; water-fowl are abun- 
dant. Here is a highway northward into the heart of the upper coun- 
try, all the way easy of passage, and much cheaper than the trip to 
California, or even to Colorado. There are splendid hotels at Duluth, 
Brainard, Moorehead, Fargo and Glyndon, and tolerably good living 
all the way from there down. "Barring" the mosquitoes, which you 



MINNESOTA. 



,'J85 



can guard against by " taking the vail," as the residents do, there is no 
physical inconvenience, and the air is ever pure and bracing. You 
can enjoy the sensation of a day eighteen or twenty hours long, and 
see the sun as low at noon in summer as it is in Ohio in winter. 
With this hiut I resume my personal narrative. 

From St. Paul we took the cars northward along the left bank of 
the Mississip- 
p i, passing 
through rich 
prairies a n d 
*' o a k o p e n- 
ings,^' the lat- 
ter looking 
very much like 
old orchards. 
We are rarely 
out of sight of 
crystal lakes, 
which add 
such a charm 
to the Minne- 
sota landscape. 
The State con- 
tains ten thou- 
sand lakes, va- 
rying from a 
few acres to 

many miles in extent. In the angle between the Mississippi and 
Minnesota Rivers is a region rich in scenery and historic interest. 
There the Minnehaha plunges down from the prairie level to the Mis- 
sissippi by the Minnehaha Falls, so well known to the world through 
the genius of Longfellow. On the prairie level are crystal lakes, syl- 
van groves and picturesque knolls, among which the tourist may spend 
weeks of enjoyment. The railroad ended at Sauk Rapids, where we 
halted for a day. This is to be the great manufacturing city of this 
region, the rapids of the Mississippi furnishing unlimited water-power, 
but as yet the citizens have done little beyond the preliminary wind 
work. In 1859 this was thought to be the head of all navigation, 
and only two little steamers plied above St. Anthony Falls; now 
smaller boats run from Sauk Rapids to Brainard, and sometimes 
25 




MINNEHAHA IN WINTEB. 



386 WESTERN WILDS. 

farther. The Mississipj)i parts with its greatness slowly. Away up 
here it still has tlie appearance of a big river. 

From Sauk we take the stage-coach — a little jerky carrying ten 
passengers, among them a Sister and Mother Superior of the Order 
of St. Francis. These were on their way to Belle Prairie, a mission 
in the " Big Woods," to take charge of a frontier academy, and teach 
letters, language and religion to little half-breeds and Chippeways. 
The Mother Superior Avas a lady of rare intelligence, just from Eu- 
rope, where she had been nursing tiic sick and wounded of the Franco- 
Prussian war. To my remark that I doubted the possibility of con- 
verting an Indian, she replied with great feeling : " Oh, perhaps not 
in my time, but surely soon, the race will know and accept the truth. 
We w^ork for God, and He wdll take care of it. If we convert one it 
will repay us ten thousand fold." 

Near midnight we left them at Belle Prairie, a hamlet of a few cab- 
ins, with a small school-house, and near by a chapel, its white cross 
gleaming in the cold moonlight, fit symbol of the Sisters' life and 
work. How wonderful is this Avide extended power of the Church of 
Rome ! Who can travel beyond the reach of her world-embracing 
arms ? Alike on the banks of the St. Lawrence and the Rio Grande, 
I have seen the white cross of her chapels ; and on the wild frontier 
and in the hut of the savage have met her hardy missionaries, bronzed 
by every sun and weather-beaten by the storms of every sky from 
Pembina to Arizona. Is it any wonder, considering her celibate 
clergy, who make the flock their family and the whole Morld their 
home, and her holy orders of devoted women, to whom suffering and 
self-denial are sweet for the sake of the Church — is it any wonder that 
a quarter of a billion souls attest her power, and, to the reproach of 
us Protestants, over half the Christian world still owns allegiance to 
Rome ? 

Soon after we reached Crow Wing, and remained till near noon 
next day. Thence an h(UU' of rapid driving brought ns into the Black 
Pine Forest, in the center of which we found the "city" of Brainard — 
on the Northern Pacific Railroad at last. The streets were lively 
with representatives of three great races — for it was Sunday — and all 
the railroad employes were in town to drink and trade. The i)rinci- 
pal saloonatic had secured a rare attraction: a band of fifteen Chippe- 
ways were performing the " war dance " before his door, to the music 
of a drum and buckskin tambourine, and drinks were going as fast as 
two men could serve the crowd. After each dance the only " brave " 
who could speak English went around with the luit, exclaiming, 



MINNESOTA. 387 

"Ten-n-ceu-iits a nian-n ! ten-n-cen-nts a man-n !" the result being 
money enough to treat the band to white sugar, of which they are 
passionately fond. Near by a white roue was trying to strike a bar- 
gain with a rather pretty Chippeway girl of fourteen 3'ears or so, who 
was in charge of an older sister, a withered hag at least thirty years 
old, and therefore past all show of comeliness, as is the nature of In- 
dian women. Behind stood a half-breed squaw, about as " pretty " as 
a wild-cat struck with a club. Ten rods away, afternoon service was 
in progress at the Episcopal Church, the only one in the place ; and 
across the street a maison de joie kept open doors, its inmates at the 
windows with a lavish display of mammiferous wealth. No work was 
in progress; most of the men had on clean shirts, and the holy Sab- 
bath was strictly kept — in Far Western fashion. 

The " city " had one great advantage over Union Pacific towns : the 
houses were all of lumber, and the native pines still lined the streets. 
Here the great Mississippi has at last shrunk to a stream no more 
than a hundred yards wide and perhaps ten feet deep; a hundred 
miles north would bring lis into that circle of lakes — Itasca, Leech, 
Cass and Plantagenet — which jointly form its source. Around, 
mostly to the east, are ten thousand square miles covered with the 
white and yellow varieties of Norway pine, constituting the great 
wealth of Upper Minnesota. Next morning a lowering sky gave no- 
tice that the first storm of the season was at hand, and as the train 
moved westward the air hinted of snow. For seventy-five miles the 
country is nearly worthless for agricultural purposes; then we move 
down a gentle slope, and enter the fertile valley of Red Hiver. The 
little lakes are beautiful. In winter they are frozen almost solid, and 
then is the best time for freighting ; the sled routes take a direct line 
from point to point without regard to lakes or sloughs. 

Moorehead, on the eastern bank of Red River, is the end of a pas- 
senger division, and the nominal head of navigation ; but it is only in 
the months of June and July that any steamers run to that point. 
Frog Point, sixty miles below (northward), is the head of navigation 
for the rest of the summer, though boats rarely ply before the latter 
part of May. As Red River has a general course due north, the thaw 
occurs at the head first, and forces a great break up and massing of the 
ice down at Fort Garry and other ports in Winnepeg. Straw-ticks, 
beef, bread and potatoes could be had for $2.00 per day in either of 
the new frame hotels then adorning Moorehead; but there was noth- 
ing to be seen requiring more than a night's stay. Omnibuses Were 
not, so we carried our baggage a mile, across the bridge and through 



388 WESTERN WILDS. 

Fargo, Dakota, to the construction train, on wiiich we traversed the 
last hundred miles of the road. For fifty miles west of Red 
River the country appears as level as the calm ocean; the rank grass 
above, and the black soil below, as shown in the cuts, indicate great 
fertility. The biting wind from the north-west brought a chilling 
rain, and after it sleet and finally snow, which last was a great im- 
})rovcment on the sleet. AVe had been assured by Jay Cooke that 
"the isothermal line takes a great northward deflection Avest of the 
Great Lakes," giving this a mild climate ; but a snow storm in Sep- 
tember did not indicate it. 

We crossed the Shyene River twice, and soon after ran through the 
edge of Salt Lake — so called, though little like the great one in Utah. 
It appears to be about five miles long, is thickly impregnated with 
salt and alkali, and has an outlet only in very wet weather. The ter- 
minus of the road was then at Jimtown, near tlie western limit of fer- 
tile land. The cold was severe and the wind blowing almost a hurri- 
cane. As my blue fingers stifFonod around the handle of my valise, 
and the canvas town clattered in the wind as if it would fly away, the 
thermometer standing at 28°, and the air full of flying snow, I was in- 
clined to set down most I had heard about this "mild and salubrious 
climate" as the exuberance of a playful fancy. But in a day or two 
the storm yielded to sunshine, October came in gloriously, and good 
weather continued a month longer. The storm prevented our excur- 
sion beyond the terminus, but from abundant testimony I am con- 
vinced there is little to see but rolling plains scantily clothed with 
grass, alkali flats and sand-hills. The fertile land lies along the east- 
ern l)order. 

From Jimtown eastward to Duluth developed no new features. 
First we had a hundred miles of Red River Valley to Fargo and 
Moorchead; fifty miles of the same on the eastern side; then the rise 
to Detroit lakes, and then the half-barren strip of marsh and pine, 
tamarack and scrub-oak flat, till we got within seventy-five miles of 
Duluth. Thence the country rapidly improved; the soil and timber 
were fine, and scenery on the St. Louis River approaching the grand. 
Duluth had become historic— it is more historic than commercial, still, 
for that matter. "The Zenith City of the unsalted seas," as the local 
poets modestly styled it, did not appear to advantage just after a Sep- 
tember snow-storm; ])ut it was lively with immigrants, colony agents, 
real estate speculators, travelers and freighters. 

Since then the German-Russian Mennonites have been pouring into 
Southern Dakota by thousands, and it is evident the future population 



MINNESOTA. 



389 




of our new North-west will consist largely of Scandinavians and kin- 
dred races. They are wheat-eaters, Bible-readers, and Calvinists; 
they establish schools and ^=^ — -- ^ — - — -=%^ 

churches, are anchored to ^V - ^^^ e. 

the soil, and constitute a ^^ ^^ 

conservative and most de- ^P^- ^p 

sirable class of citizens. _= 

An old traveler relates 
that he was toiling over 
the black sandy prairie, 
one of the hottest days of 
their hot but short sum- 
mer, when to his joy he 
came upon a dirt-roofed 
log-house with the word 
ICE in prominent letters 
on the right side of the 
door. Drawing near with 
thirsty haste he saw on the 
left side, in smaller, dim- 
mer letters the word 
POSTOFF. A Russian or Swedish name, he thought, and called for 
ice-water. The woman, ignorant of English, handed him a bundle of 
letters with instructions, in pantomime, to pick out what belonged U 
him ! He made out after a lengthy discussion with the woman that the 
two signs were to be read together, and meant POST-OFFICE. 

I have sufficiently described the climate of our new North-west; 
it is severe but healthful. There has been a deal of miscella- 
neous lying on this subject. Storms of fifty hours' duration 
are not uncommon even in Nebraska ; and at Cheyenne I have ex- 
perienced weather cold enough to freeze the most hardy animals if un- 
sheltered. Five hundred miles south of the Northern Pacific I have 
seen cattle frozen stiff in their tracks, horses left in the spring with 
only the stump of a tail, birds fallen dead from the air in cold wind 
storms, Indians without nose enough left to blow after a winter's jour- 
ney, and buffalo by tens of thousands literally frozen to death on the 
plains. But settlers can provide against storms and cold; experience 
shows that man comes to perfection in such climates, and the old resi- 
dent can truthfully say, . 

"Man is the noblest growtli our realms supply; 
And souls are ripened in our Northern sky." 



DALLES OF ST. LOUIS RIVER. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE WAY TO OREGON. 

Browx October found me again rolling tlirougli Iowa, in the 
palace cars of the Burlington and Missouri River Railroad, on my 
way to Oregon, after a brief visit to the States. The four years and 
a half sinec I crossed the State on foot had added three hundred thou- 
sand to its population, and a thousand miles to its working raih'oads. 
And still there is room. The State still has vacant land enough for 
two million farmers. 

Westward from Omaha there had also been great changes. In 1868 
we ran out into open prairie soon after leaving Fremont ; now there is 
a nearly continuous line of farms on both sides of the railroad as far as 
Loup Fork. Beyond, cattle ranches multiply, and but a few years Avill 
elapse till all this section of the high plains will be utilized by stock- 
growers. It is claimed that as ranches increase and farms are opened 
the climate changes, grows more moist, and thus carries the border of 
fertile land farther west; but, on this point, I Avill suspend judgment. 
My fourteenth trip over the Union Pacific Railroad was more pleasant 
than any previous one. The brown plains east of the mountains were 
just as brown, the red hills and alkali deserts of Wyoming quite as 
monotonous ; but the sublime scenery of Echo and Weber Canons was 
glorified by the rich hues of autumn, and over all the gray-brown 
landscape of the plains^ hung the soft haze of what would be Indian 
summer at the East. 

In Utah I found Saint and Gentile in their normal condition of 
attack and defense. First one side got a blow ahead, and then the 
other, like a pair of badly-matched oxen ; or, as we used to say in 
Indiana : " Like a half-sled on ice." It had grown monotonous, and, 
after a few days' rest in Salt Lake and Corinne, I took passage in one 
of the new silver palace cars of the Central Pacific. In them travel is 
a luxury ; one eats, drinks, smokes, sleeps, reads, or writes at the rate 
of twenty miles an hour; free to look at the scenery where it deserves 
it, and with abundant enjoyment indoors where it does not. Novem- 
ber 1st we found the Nevada Desert very bleak, and the Sierras fast 
being covered with snow. Between Truckee and Cape Horn the road 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 



391 



is protected by forty miles of snow-sheds^ the same of which the 
British traveler complained — "Blarsted long depot; longest I ever 
saw ! " They continue down the western slope to an elevation of only 
4,500 feet above the sea, where there is no danger of a blockade ; and 
cost a million and a half. No snow can fall sufficient to block the 
road, as they are 
built against the 
cliffs Avith such a 
slope as to shed 
the snow into the 
deep valleys. 

At an elevation 
of 3,000 feet, we 
were out of the re- 
gion of snow, and 
soon after among 
the brilliant leaves 
and yellow grass 
AV h i c h mark the 
autumn scenery of 
the Pacific Coast. 
Only two light 
showers have fall- 
en ; the stimulating blue caron-sierra nevada. 
air and cloudless sky show that the rainy season has not fairly set in. 
At Sacramento I find great difference of opinion as to the better route 
to Oregon, by land or water, by the weariness of stage-coach pounding, 
or the pains and perils of sea-sickness. In order to give an unbiased 
opinion, I decided to go by land and return by sea. Through tickets 
from Sacramento to Portland, by land, can be had for forty-five dol- 
lars ; by sea, for ten dollars less. The railroad terminus was then at 
Reading, a hundred and seventy-five miles from Sacramento; thence 
one must stage it two hundred and eiglity miles to the southern ter- 
minus of the Oregon Railroad. The autumn rains came on in due 
order, and, as our train moved up the Sacramento River, the summer- 
dried grass was taking on a velvety brown, with rare patches of faint 
green. Northward, signs of fertility increased ; and, at Chico, the 
face of nature was so beautiful, that I halted for a day. 

Here General John Bidwell has a ranche of some 20,000 acres, one 
of the finest in California. The plains of the Sacramento have a vary- 
iiig width of from twenty-five to fifty miles, between the foot-hills of 




392 WESTERN WILDS. 

the Sierra and Coast Range; and his ranchc occupies the richest por- 
tion of this strip. He is a pioneer of the pioneers, having come to 
California in 184G, two years before the discovery of go hi. The same 
year came Governor Boggs and party, from Missouri ; Edwin M. Bry- 
ant, first American ah;ahle of San Francisco, and the unfortunate Con- 
ner party, whose sufl'erings and fate have laid the foundation for many 
a thrilling romance. At least five thousand Americans had crossed 
the plains and settled in California before the "great rush" of 1849. 
They all engaged in cattle-raising, the sole business of the native 
Mexicans; for, even as late as 1850, few people believed that these 
dry plains would admit of regular farming. A few of them got pos- 
session of old Mexican grants, the titles to which w'ere afterwards con- 
firmed by treaty, and have since been sustained by the Supreme Court 
of the United States. Hence that oppressive land monopoly, Avhich is 
now the worst hinderance to the development of California. 

On General Bidwell's ranche are grown all the roots and grains of 
the temperate zones; besides fifty varieties of fruit, from the little 
black grape of the North to the fig of the tropics. He had already 
made the manufacture of raisins a success, and wine can be produced 
almost as cheaply as cider in Ohio. I find all the wines of California 
very agreeable to the taste, and most of them healthful. But the old 
resident seldom drinks wine. At every hotel the salutation in cool 
weather is, " Walk right up to the bar — warm you up for four bits, and 
heat you red hot for a dollar." This is a " survival " of the tastes 
of early settlers, who worked hard with pick and shovel, lived on 
bread, beef, pork, and beans, and did not taste milk, wine, or fresh 
vegetables for years together. 

As we walked around the grounds adjacent to the Bidwell mansion, 
we saw oranges, olives, and pomegranates growing luxuriantly, while 
the borders Avere a l)rilliant maze of white and red, diversified by the 
branching palm, pam])as grass ten feet high, with beautiful white 
plumes, and the delicate tints of the giant oleander. Workmen were 
busy covering the young orange trees, which must be shielded from 
the coldest winds during the first three or four years, but on the full- 
grown trees the growing oranges were nearly of full size, the green 
rind beginning to change to a pale yellow. And yet, fifteen hundred 
miles straight east of this, at my old home, snow is fast covering the 
fields, and no green-growing plant will delight the eye for months to 
come. 

At Reading, I tarried again, making pleasant excursions among the 
surrounding hills and valleys, the most pleasant to Shasta City. 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 393 

This region was the range of the poet Joaquin Miller, during the 
wild days in which he absorbed poetry from free nature, and found 
inspiration in the companionship of Shasta squaws. The county rec- 
ords contain papers of strange import as to his reputation. The worst 
accusation against him is of stealing a horse; but his friends maintain 
that the owner of the horse owed Miller a debt which the latter 
could not collect, and therefore levied on the property in a somewhat 
irregular way. Be that as it may, the grand jury at Shasta found a 
bill of indictment against him; he was in jail for some time, then 
broke out and fled to Oregon. Joaquin's native wife was of the Pitt 
River band of Diggers, and she now lives near there with an old 
mountaineer named Brock. This man and Miller were crack shots, 
and supplied themselves and brown families plentifully with game, 
living in all other respects as the Indians do. The poetry in Joaquin 
(whose real name, by the way, is John Heiner Miller) worked out in 
very odd ways for some years. The most charitable opinion in 
Shasta is, that he was then slightly " cracked," with a crazy affectation 
to imitate the heroes of Spanish romance. His name was adopted 
from that of Joaquin Murietta, a noted outlaw, who was long the 
terror of the Joaquin River region. He was of the " dashing, chival- 
rous" Claude Duval style of bandits, spending his gains freely among 
the Mexican senoritas ; and the character fascinated Miller. 

From what I saw of the Shasta and Pitt River squaws, I should 
say a man must needs be very crazy to live with one of them. The 
sight or smell of most of them would turn the stomach of any other 
than a poet. Their chief luxury is dried and tainted salmon. White 
men not only learn to eat it, but are said to like it even more tainted 
than do the Indians. Many old mountaineers are scattered through 
these hills, each living with a squaw; and it is common testimony that 
after a white man has lived with a squaw some years, he would not 
leave her for the best white woman in the country. They learn to do 
housework after a fashion, and on gala days rig out in hoops and 
waterfalls of most flintastic pattern. But they boil or roast the car- 
casses of their dead relatives ; mix the grease with tar, and mat it on 
their heads and necks, making a sort of helmet, with only the eyes 
and mouth free; then for seven weeks they howl on the hill-tops every 
morning and evening to scare away the evil spirits. I saw one of 
these "in mourning," and am convinced that if she don't scare the 
devil away, he must be a spirit of some nerve. A white man dis- 
posed to Indian life, can adopt all their customs in six months, while 
an Indian can not adopt ours in fifty years. Arithmetically speaking, 



394 



WESTERN WILDS. 



It is 
Iiuli 




a hundred times as easy for a white man to go wild as for an 
Liii to hocomc really eivilized. We left Reading by stage at 

one o'clock in the morning, seven 
men in a little coach, which carried 
also seventeen hundred pounds of de- 
layed mail. On top, rear, and "boot," 
it was piled as long as it could be 
strapped fast, and half the inside was 
filled with it. The passes ahead were 
fast filling with snow, and delayed mail 
and ])assengers were scattered at every 
point along the route. At daylight we 
crossed Pitt River, where the valley 
of the Sacramento may be said to end, 
w as the spurs of the Sierras put out 
t westward toward the Coast Range, and, 
^ in mining parlance, "pinch in" upon 

1 the plain. Pitt River is really the 
s Upper Sacramento, being the largest 
K of the confluent streams, and preserv- 
fc ing a general course south-westward, 
p. after emerging from the mountains. 
g Along its right bluff, we preserved 
H a general north-east course all day. 
^ Again and again we thought we had 
^ left it, as the coach turned directly 

2 aM'ay and labored up mountainous 
d passes, and along frightful " dugways " 
y for miles, to an elevation of hundreds 

of feet above the stream ; then we 
would turn to the right, and come 
thundering down a long rocky grade 
for two or three miles to the water's 
edge again. And every time we ap- 
peared to be coming back to the same 
place; there were the .same timbered 
hills and rocky bluffs, perpendicular 
on one side of the stream and sloping 
on the other; the same immense gray 
bowlders, rocky islands and towers in 
the bed of the stream, and the .same white foaming rapids. 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 395 

For fifty miles the river is a series of cascades; and though, 
through our ups and downs, we but kept even with the stream, 
we must have been gaining rapidly in general elevation. The 
sun rose clear, and the bright day and sublime scenery made us 
forget the fatigues of the way. The immense timber through which 
this road runs is a constant astonishment to the traveler. For two 
hundred miles, broken only by two or three open spaces, stretches a 
vast forest of firs and pines of every diameter, from one to ten feet. 
Southward the big trees grow more numerous, till they culminate in 
the Calaveras Grove and the thirty-two-feet stump, on which there 
is room for a dancing party, with musicians and spectators. Here is 
inexhaustible wealth in lumber. The fir is harder to work than the 
pine, but more durable. With good facilities for shipping, every acre 
of this forest would be worth two hundred dollars. 

Xear night we left the river, and toiled slowly up-hill for two hours 
to a mountain plateau. To our right was INIount Shasta, 14,400 feet 
high, a scene of indescribable beauty in the cold, clear moonlight. 
The lower portion looked like polished marble, shading off' by degrees 
to the bright green of the ]3ine forests on the foot-hills; the summit, 
covered nearly all the year with snow and ice, shone a monument of 
dazzling whiteness. But sentiment was soon overpowered by sense, as 
the drivers had lost time, and now took advantage of the dowai-grade ; 
the coach bumped over great bowlders, throwing us against the roof 
and back against the seats till phrenological development went on at 
both ends with uncomfortable rapidity. Lean men can not endure 
coaching like plump ones; and if Darwinism be true, in my many 
years of travel I should have " developed " a series of gristle-pads. 
Our present anatomy is all very well for home life in a level country; 
for mountaineering I could suggest an improvement: a cast-iron back- 
bone with a hinge in it, terminating below in a sole-leather copper- 
lined flap. 

At Yreka I had to stop and rest between stages; and, after nine 
hours' sleep, still felt as if I had been pounded all over with a clap- 
board. Yreka has the coldest climate of any city in California, and a 
location of wonderful beauty. From the town a gently undulating 
valley extends in every direction, rising by a succession of timbered 
foot-hills to the lofty mountains, whose notched and pointed summits, 
now dazzling white with snow, seem to join the blue heavens or lose 
themselves in clouds. But it is only on the points of the mountains 
that any mist can be seen ; above us the sky is cloudless, and the cool 
air is exhilarating as some ethereal gas. A few miles eastward was the 



396 



WESTERN WILDS. 



home of the ISIodocs, and soon after my visit this region became no 
torious for that tompest-in-a-teapot, the " INIodoc War." These are 
the gentle savages Avitli whom Walk-in Miller claims to have affiliated^ 
at mention of which claim the old pioneers smile meaningly, with a 
closure of the left optic. 

AVyeka was the original Indian name; for no Indian or Chinaman 
can pronounce the letter r. There is a tradition that a Dutch baker 

painted the 
present 
name on 
his sign by 
m i sta k e, 
and it was 
noted that 

" Y R E K A 

bakery" 
spelt the 
same both 
ways, which 
struck the 
citizens as 
such a hap- 
py cond)i- 
iiation that 
the name 
was retain- 
ed by gen- 
eral con- 
sent. Sim- 
ilarly^ Sis- 
kiyou, name 
of the coun- 
ty first or- 
ganized, resulted from the attempts of miners to pronounce the French 
Six Cailloux ("six bowlders"), as the district was called, from six im- 
mense rocks in the river. As most of the early American settlers 
learned French and Indian by the aid of "sleeping dictionaries," the 
pronunciation may not be strictly academic. Like all old mining 
counties, this is heavily taxed. An unsettled population of twenty 
thousand often organized a California county, voted magnificent public 
works, and issued bonds to complete them; in no long time the miners 




VIEW IN THE SIoDOC COUNTRY. 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 397 

mostly left, and a smaller community of farmers, graziers and vine- 
growers have to pay the debt and run the county. 

Early next morning we took the coach again, and soon after day- 
light crossed the Klamath River by a " swing-ferry." The valley 
amounts to but little, as the river runs between rugged hills through 
most of its course; but on its headwaters is the greatest game district 
in the West, perhaps in the world. All varieties of game abound, and 
the cool waters of Klamath Lake are alive with trout. Only its re- 
mote and inaccessible position 2)revents its being a place of great re- 
sort. Soon after we enter Oregon, and the first impression is that the 
State is covered by one immense and gloomy forest. In places the 
very daylight seemed to vanish into a mild twilight, and in the few 
"clearings" we passed through, the sunshine was novel and enjoyable. 
After noon the country began to show signs of improvement ; settlers' 
cabins became numerous, and, after running down a narrow canon, we 
came out into the beautiful valley of Rogue River. Here is said 
to be the finest climate in Oregon, and to wearied passengers just 
over the mountains the sight was a revelation of beauty. Where we 
enter, the valley is no more than two miles wide, but as we go down 
it widens gradually to fifteen or twenty, while on every hand appear 
fine farms, thrifty orchards, great piles of red and yellow apples of 
wondrous size, barns full of wheat, and fine stock, and we feel with 
delight that w^e are out of the mountains and " in the settlements." 
Though far retired from the road, the mountains still appear rugged 
and lofty, sending out a succession of rocky spurs — one every two or 
three miles — and between these, far back into the hills, extend most 
beautiful coves. The air was mild, the roads firm and smooth, and 
the coach rolled along with just enough of motion to give variety — 
and appetite. 

Plows were running in the fields, " breaking summer fallow for 
spring wheat," said the natives; and the farm work showed that no 
freeze was to be apprehended for some time. Another night's travel 
on the mountains, and daylight came slowly upon us in the dense 
woods lying between Cow Creek and the South Umpqua. The sun's 
rays did not reach us through the dense and leafy mass above till 
nearly noon, and soon after we entered on a timbered canon down 
which we bumped and thumped for four hours, making but fifteen 
miles. The coach alone would have been too heavy a load for the 
four horses, every one of which filled Isaiah's description of the 
natural man : their whole heads were sick and their whole hearts 



398 WESTERN WILDS. 

faint; and from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot they were 
wounds and bruises and putrefying sores. 

At ('anonville we ran out into the Unipqua Valley, at a point 
where the river comes in from the east and turns due north. After 
crossing we traveled the rest of the day down the east bank. Many 
clear and pretty streams dash down from the Cascade Range, cross 
our road and empty into the Umpqua. The range bends in towards 
the coast, and hence none of these valleys are as wide as that of the 
Sacramento. Reaching Roseburgh at dark, we found that the Oregon 
and California Railroad had just been completed to that point, saving 
us eighteen miles of the staging we had expected. Next day was 
Sunday, and I can not recall a more pleasant Sabbath than this, which 
we spent in a slow ride down to Portland. Roseburgh is south of the 
"divide" and on the slope towards the Klamath; but the intermediate 
ridges are not so high as those behind us, and far more pleasant as seen 
from the inside of a car. Forty miles brought us fairly into the Willa- 
mette Valley, the largest body of good land in Oregon, containing 
nearly six thousand square miles. The soil is wonderful, being in many 
places from six to thirty feet in depth. The high Cascade Range shuts 
off all hard winter storms ; the lower Coast Range on the west only ad- 
mits the mildest airs of the Pacific ; the summers never get so dry or hot 
as in California ; all the rains are gentle, and destructive storms and 
freshets are unknown. The surprisingly slow development of such a 
region can only be accounted for by the method of settlement, the first 
comers getting title to nearly all the land. The new settlers eagerly 
seize on every chance for improvement, and are doing considerable; 
but it is complained that these old fellows " hold on to the land like 
burrs, and die mighty slow." And from longer experience with the 
"first families," I am driven to the painful conclusion, that about 
a hundred first-class funerals would prove of great advantage to 
Oregon. 

In the lower portions of the valley the road traverses Avhat are 
called "Beaver Lands." The theory of their origin is that the 
beavers, by damming up the shallow creeks and building their houses 
in them, caused the beds and adjacent low lands to overflow and fill 
with accumulations of earthy matter and decayed vegetable deposits. 
This must have been the work of many centuries, and has left a soil 
which only grows more fertile by cultivation. But these lands are 
found nowhere but in the Willamette Valley, and do not altogether 
exceed twenty thousand acres. 

I reached Portland at sunset of a beautiful sabbath evening — not at 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 399 

all suggestive of the fog and rain which are generally attributed to 
this climate. For two days the weather was delightful, though every- 
body spoke of it as the coldest they had ever experienced. The wind 
was from the north-west, very gentle, "the sky clear, and ice half an 
inch thick formed on the gutters — a rare thing in Portland. The 
third evening the thermometer rose from 28° to 38°, and next morn- 
ing I wondered why I had waked and was so restless in the night. 
I turned over suddenly, and an old shot wound in the knee gave 
me a fearful wrench. Then I felt something like ague along my 
backbone. I struck a match, looked at my watch, and it was after 
8 o'clock. 

Such a fog! One could chew it up and spit it out. AYith a sharp 
knife it might be cut out in chunks and stored for dry weather. 
They say the winters here are healthful. It must be for differently 
constituted lungs from mine. It don't seem to me like breathing; it 
is rather a sort of pulmonic swallowing. Only the smoke and dust 
of a great city here is needed to give Portland occasional fogs fully equal 
to those of London. This fog continued till noon, then broke away, 
and a gentle drizzle finished the day. Portlanders all agree that they 
have the finest climate in the world in summer, and part of the 
spring; but admit that it is rather unpleasant in the winter or rainy 
season. From November till March every wind brings rain, unless it 
be from the north-west. In that case the clouds sail away over the 
Cascade Range, the mercury falls to 35° or below, and the sky is clear 
for a brief space. But let the mercury rise to 40°, and rain comes 
again. Sometimes there is a continuous patter for six weeks, the air 
being chilly and penetrating. The summers are never so hot and dry 
as in California ; the hills are covered with timber, and every thing 
grows without irrigation. 

One week sufficed to conclude my business in Oregon, but before 
leaving a few general notes are in order. Portland is on the west 
bank of the Willamette (pro. Wil-Zow-et), twelve miles above its 
mouth and near the head of tide-water. But the Columbia often rises 
so as to cause backwater, giving the Willamette a variation of thirty- 
two feet. Ocean steamers load at the wharf, and the place has direct 
water communication with all the ports of the world, the chief exports 
being wheat, lumber, beef and salmon. All the older portion of the 
city is very beautifully improved ; elegant residences abound, with 
many evidences of taste and wealth. The location is picturesque. 
The Cascade Range is only occasionally visible, but Mount Hood 
rears its snowy summit sixty miles eastward, and looks as if it were just 



400 WESTERN WILDS. 

out of town. Mount Saint Helens is somclinies in ^ood view, (liougli 
eighty miles to the north-east. All the hill.s around the city are cov- 
ered with heavy timber, and in town every street is double lined with 
shade trees. 

Of the 25,000 people in Portland, one-sixth are Chinamen. They 
are porters, washer-men, railroad laborers, cigar makers, and artisans 
of other sorts, with an occasional member of the higher caste engaged 
in trade. Sam Poy Lahong has seven stores on tlie Pacific Coast, his 
head-quarters being at Portland. I made his acquaintance, and found 
him a gentleman of great intelligence. The firm of Tung, Duck, 
Chung & Co., charter vessels and import extensively from China, as 
do some smaller firms. Other foreigners are scarce ; the Jews pre- 
dominate. Portland is almost exclusively an American city, in fact, a 
Yankee settlement; though most of tlie people in the country are 
from Missouri and other South-western States. The city seems to 
have all the enterprise which the State at large lacks. The rural 
"web-foot," as the residents are called, in ironical allusion to the 
climate, is sid generis: there is a distinctively Oregonian look about 
all the natives and old residents which is hard to describe. Certainly 
they are not an enterprising people. They drifted in here all along 
from 1835 to 1855, and some of them at an even earlier period, when 
many western Americans came to the Pacific Coast to engage in cattle- 
raising — not considering the country fit for much else. They left 
Missouri and Illinois — most of them — because those States were even 
then "too crowded" for them, and they wanted to get away where 
"they w^as plenty o' range and plenty o' game," and have a good, easy 
time. With one team to each family (time being no object to such 
people) it costs them nothing to move; and the peculiar land laws 
applied to Oregon gave them every advantage, and have been a serious 
hinderance to settlement ever since. Each single male settler could 
acquire title to three hundred and twenty acres, and each married man 
to six hundred and forty ; there were besides some inducements to 
families, so that the birth of a child was a pecuniary advantage to the 
parents. The result was that hundreds of girls of eleven, twelve and 
thirteen years of age were married ; with the further result, that all 
this fine land is owned in vast bodies by these old fiimilies, many of 
whom will neither sell, improve, nor hire any one else to improve. 
They acknowledge their own laziness, and talk about it so good- 
humoredly that one is compelled to sympathize with them. 

The steamer on which I had engaged passage down the coast was 
to start at dark, but going on board I was informed that we should 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 401. 

delay till next day, " to get high tide over the bar at the mouth of the 
Columbia." So my friends made an evening of it to see me oif prop- 
erly, and gave me a world of good advice about sea-sickness. Having 
properly prepared my nerves, and emptied fourteen bottles of " Bass," 
they saw me aboard, with the parting words : " Good-bye, Jonah ; and 
when you begin to heave, think of us! " An " old salt " then gave me 
his advice: "Take half a dozen limes in your pocket, eat one when- 
ever you begin to feel giddy, wrap up well and walk about, st'ick to 
the deck with me, and I'll insure you." This I did, and found it the 
best plan. 

At daylight, the bang of a six-pounder on the bow aroused me from 
dreams of shipwreck, and pretty soon the "hoh-he-hoh" of the sea- 
men's chorus, and the rattle of lines and jingle of bells announced 
that we were off. The easy motion of the vessel lulled me to another 
nap of an hour, from which I awoke to find that we were dead still — 
neither tied nor anchored, but swinging with the current, and buried in 
a fog, so dense that I had to feel my way along the berths to the cabin 
door. We were near the mouth of the Willamette, and were to stay 
there any time from one to twenty-four hours. Hour by hour the fog 
slowly lifted, drizzle and mist taking its place, and chilling one to the 
very bones. The cabin passengers crowded around the stoves, while 
the Chinese and other steerage passengers walked the deck, or stood 
around the smoke-stacks for Avarmth ; the melancholy " Johns," with 
glazed caps and black pig-tails, looking like a lot of half-drowned 
crows. About 2 P. M., blue spots began to appear, bright rays broke 
through the gloom, a light wind was felt from the north-west, and 
soon the fog was sailing away in fleecy clouds toward the Cascade 
Range. 

We were soon out in the Columbia, and at once surrounded by large 
flocks of ducks and wild geese, with an occasional gull or Walloon. 
At dark we reached the principal salmon fisheries, stopped for the 
nighty and took on a hundred tons of canned salmon — " No j^ut up at 
all," the clerk said. The amphibious race who follow the calling of 
fishermen on the lower Columbia, know all about salmon and next to 
nothing of any thing else. Three hours persistent questioning among 
them developed these facts. The salmon vary in weight from five to 
thirty pounds, twelve being a fair average. When they enter the 
Columbia from the ocean, their meat is of a bright red color; every 
mile they go up stream they get poorer, and their meat whiter. In 
the Willamette it is a pale vermillion, further up almost white ; but 
no Oregonian will eat of salmon taken above the mouth of the Willa- 
26 



402 



WESTERN WILDS. 



mette. They continue up stream as far as possible, and have been 
seen twelve liundred miles from the ocean. On all the rapids they are 
found "bucking against the stream;" where only the most daring 
boatmen venture, they glide swiftly up over the rocks; and where 
man descends at tlie risk of his life, the graceful salmon is seen shin- 
ing through the foaming water. Having reached the higliest attaina- 




EAPIDS ON THE UPPER COLUMBIA. 



ble point, on whatever stream they turn into, they spawn among the 
gravel and on the rocks, where the water is but two or three inches 
deep. Then they die by thousands, and masses of dead salmon are 
cast ashore, or found floating in the eddies. It was thought they all 
died ; but the fishermen say it is now known that many of the old 
ones survive to return to the ocean, though they float sluggishly with 
the current, keeping very low in the water. Next year the young 
ones go out to the ocean in vast schools, and occasionally one of them 
is caught Avith a hook, but not often. The meat of the salmon is 
})oison to a dog. There is a remarkable difference between various 
localities. At places on Puget Sound, the salmon is not fit to cat; at 
others, it is inferior, but still palatable. The Columbia takes preced- 
ence of all points on the coast. 

We spent three hours at Astoria, a curious old town strung along 
under the wooded hills, and a party of us walked out to see the first 
house built in Oregon — the old residence of Astor. The place is now 



THE WAY TO OREGON. 403 

of little importance except for shipping salmon. The call to a late 
breakfast showed the fifty cabin passengers all on hand, each one spec- 
ulating humorously as to how many would sit down to the next meal ; 
for we could already see the white foam on the bar, and knew that a 
" high sea was running outside/' The Columbia bar was long the 
terror of navigators, but it appears to have been such only through 
ignorance; and, since proper soundings have been made, no more ac- 
cidents have occurred in the last twenty years than at the mouths of 
other large rivers. We passed it in an liour, without difficulty, and 
soon were upon the " heaving ocean," of which we read. It was a 
rough introduction. The heaviest sea encountered on the voyage was 
at the start. One minute the bow appeared to be rearing up to square 
oiF at i\\Q midday sun, and the next to get down and root for something 
at the bottom of the ocean. Bets were made as to who would be the 
" first to fall," and a large party of us went to the hurricane deck to 
stand it out. With songs, shouts, and laughter we danced about on 
unsteady footing, attempting an "Ethiopian walk-around" on the 
heaving deck, determined to fight off the sickness to the last moment. 
Then we practiced balancing against the waves, watching the water in 
the hollows of the deck, and seizing on the moment when it started 
one way to throw ourselves to the opposite. While enjoying this pas- 
time, a lad of some fifteen years suddenly sank to the deck, then rose 
and emptied his stomach at one vast heave. There was a yell of 
laughter as he started below, but in a minute two more followed suit. 
Then they fell away ra])idly, and in an hour only five of us remained. 
As I gazed on the bow, admiring the majestic sweep of its rise and 
fall, it suddenly appeared to stop, then stood dead still, and the Avhole 
body of the ocean appeared to rise and fall instead, and in a moment 
my head seemed to rise and fall with it, leaving the bow between us 
quite fixed. I had been warned not to look at the bow, but I forgot 
it. I tried in vain to restore the natural order, but the illusion had 
become to me a reality : the bow was still, and my head and the ocean 
alone moved. At every rise my neck seemed to stretch out longer, 
my head get farther from my body, and my stomach to rise and fall 
with the ocean. Lunch was called, and I went below. One mouth- 
ful of soup I swallowed, but felt it coming back. I clapped my hand 
upon my mouth and rushed to ray berth, badly defeated. Next door 
to me was a family of four, making their first trip away from Oregon. 
As I passed, the little girl and boy were lying in the lower berth, with 
their heads over a basin, moaning with. sickness; the young mother 
lay above, pale as the sheet, and unable even to resist the motion of 



404 



WESTERN WILDS. 



the vessel, Avhicli tossed her from side to side; and the husband sat by 
trying to clieer them, while the dark bile swelled up in his cheeks, 
and his eye showed the composure of despair. I could not rei)ress a 
sickly smile, for ho had been the most hilarious of our i)arty on deck. 
From all sides came a mixed sound of curses, groans, and regurgita- 





CAPK' MENDOCINO. 



tions. Mv sickness lasted three hours; then came a delightful calm, 
succeeded by a long, sweet sleep. 

I learned a new fact, to me : there are really two kinds of sea- 
sickness ; one begins in the head, and the other in the stomach, and 
a man may have either or both. The latter, I am convinced, is simply 
a reversal of the peristaltic motion of the stomach and bowels. In 
the long swells, as the boat rises, one feels perfectly delightful ; tlie 
"insides" settle down, down, down, and arc at rest. But as the boat 



THE WA Y TO OREGON. 405 

sinks all the internal viscera rise — as one passenger expressed it, 
" You fall away from your grub " — they press even against the throat, 
producing a fearful and indescribable nausea. And one may have this 
kind of sea-sickness without being a particle giddy. But the other 
kind begins in the head : it is the result of the eye having nothing 
fixed or solid to rest upon. Every thing one looks at is moving — the 
boat, the lamps, the waves are so many sources of irritation to the 
brain and optic nerve. Some persons get sick in a swing, or car; but 
they find one relief: there is the sure and firm set earth to come back 
to. But on a vessel every thing is in motion. This is the kind of 
sickness I had; and, hence, when I lay down and shut my eyes, it 
gradually passed away. But for those whose sickness begins at the 
stomach there is no such remedy. They must suffer it through. 

Next morning the sea was calm, the boat running " on an even 
keel," and the rest of our voyage to San Francisco was delightful. 
The third day the table was full again; every body protested they 
"had not been very sick;" good appetite was the rule, and jollity 
reigned. So I stick to my original advice : Take a day's sea-sickness 
on the way to Oregon rather than go by stage. The second night, we 
saw from afar the glowing summit of Point Arena Light-house — a 
sublime sight from a distance on the ocean ; and viewed the glories of 
Cape Mendecino by the yellow light of the setting sun. Next night 
we passed the Golden Gate, and anchored at the San Francisco wharf; 
and, at daylight, I was delighted to find myself once more on terra 
firma. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 

" G. T. T." Forty years ago these mysterious letters might often 
he seen chalked or charcoaled on the door of an absconding debtor 
in the Middle, Southern and Western States. On the tax returns one 
occasionally saw them, opposite the name of some ne'er-do-well who 
had defrauded the State and other creditors by departing between two 
days. "Gone to Texas" was the universal verdict in such cases; and 
in due time the rural wags cut it down to the initial letters. The 
State had a hard name. As all who left their country for their coun- 
try's good were supposed to have gone to Texas, its population was 
thought to be composed mainly of refugees from debt and justice; and 
its society, such as is broadly hinted at in General Sam Houston's 
reported farewell to his young wife : " Madame, you may go to hell, 
and I'll go to Texas." 

The glories of San Jacinto, Goliad and the Alamo, the bravery of 
Texan troops in the Mexican War, and the able representatives the 
State sent to Washington, rapidly raised our opinion of the new com- 
monwealth; but its development continued slow till after the war. 
Then a fresh spirit of emigration was excited in the Old South, which 
soon spread to the North and West, and within seven years after the 
peace, Texas was said to be receiving immigrants at the rate of four 
thousand per week. On this south-westward wave I was again borne 
along in the early part of 1873, for every body was curious about it, 
and the State needed a pen-painter. 

One may now ride without change of cars from St Louis to Galves- 
ton, 1,009 miles; and from all points east to St. Louis. It was pro- 
posed to push the western branch of the Texas Central to Camargo, on 
the Rio Grande, and eventually to the City of Mexico; and grading 
was in rapid progress when the panic of 1873 suddenly stopped it. 
Only a few years, however, must elapse till one can ride by rail from 
New York to the Mexican capital. By the Missouri, Kansas & Texas 
Road, I passed leisurely through the first two States, and late in a cool 
April day entered the Indian Territory. Daylight next morning 
found us in the center of the Choctaw Nation, and still sixty miles 

(40G) 



LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 407 

north of Eed River. In the valleys the soil appeared very rich, on 
the upland rather thin. About half the country is covered by timber, 
and very few cultivated farms are seen. Occasionally appears a cattle 
corral, and near it a stylish log-house or rude cabin, from which 
" White Choctaws" peer out at the train, with an air of lazy admiration. 
In the heaviest timber, w^ild turkeys often fly near us, and smaller 
game are quite abundant, Avhile on the high prairies large herds of 
horses and cattle show the wealth and employment of the Choctaws. 

Crossing the yellow Red River, which is rather narrow at this 
point, Ave enter the sovereign State of Texas, and four miles further 
disembark at the "city" of Denison. A regular "norther" is blow- 
ing, and for the first day of my stay an overcoat is not too heavy. 
This is a cosmopolitan town. About half its citizens are from the 
North, half from the South ; a third or more are foreigners, the rest 
from every State in the Union. It is curious to observe how often a 
Northern and a Southern man are in partnership, and that the clerks 
in large establishments are similarly divided. The wants of com- 
merce demand amnesty. The Alamo Hotel, where I stop, deserves a 
week's study. It unites the characteristics of the Yankee hotel, the 
foreign hostelrie and the Southern " public house;" among its guests 
are the swarthy Southron, the darker Mexican, the blonde English- 
man, the pale Bostonian, and the omnipresent Jew, whose features are 
the same from Puget's Sound to Key AVest. The neighboring region 
is very fertile, the climate healthful, and if the State develops half as 
fast as it promises, Denison must make a considerable city. 

The " norther" blew all day. At night it suddenly ceased ; the air 
grew warm, and the streets of Denison were thronged by hundreds of 
loungers. Let us walk, listen to the music from half a dozen concert- 
saloons, and take notes of the denizens. There is the regular railroad 
follower, with glazed cap or slouched hat, dark red complexion, red 
shirt and brawny arm; the "sporting gent" of faultless exterior, 
whose Avide-awake air in the evening, and eye with dark under-stain, 
indicate wakeful nights and sleep by day ; and the Yankee merchant 
and his Southern clerks, the usual combination here. And there are 
the rural Texans lounging in groups of four or five, most of them 
dark, gaunt, and grizzly ; a few Mexicans, who have come with cattle 
herds all the way from San Antonio, and numbers of white " bull- 
Avhackers," sunburnt, healthy, and jolly, carrying with them con- 
stantly their murderous whips, which look as if one heavy stroke with 
them would flay a cow's back. All are good-humored and sociable. 
Their language is the horror of grammarians, and such phrases as 



408 WESTERN WILDS. 

" dun gone," " clean clar out," " git shet of it," are elevated to the 
dignity of good ordinary speech. About ten jier cent, of the crowd 
are negroes, the waiters and barbers usually light-colored, sleek and 
polite, but the great mass black, ragged, and offensive. 

"How's the haalth on Nohth Folik?" asks one native of another. 
" Pooty fayh," is the reply ; " but the spiral maginnis tuck a good 
many on Main Trinity this winter." This is Texan for spinal menin- 
gitis. Long afterwards I asked a negro in South Carolina how his 
people stood the winter, and received for reply : " Pooty fayh, but de 
menin-jeesus tuck lots of 'em." Similarly the motto. Sic Semper Ty- 
rannis, best known in the South as the noted exclamation of Wilkes 
Booth, is freely translated in Texas, " Six serpents and a tarantula." 

The farmers adjacent to Denison are of the old Southern type, none 
very wealthy, but all social, communicative, and glad to see the 
country improved, no matter by whom. There is no end to the land 
for sale, at from four to ten dollars per acre. At the hotels one hears 
of "canned milk" and "sure enough milk," the latter very scarce. 
All the butter used here conies from New York. There is not a 
county in this section that sells five hundred pounds of it per year. 
" Cheaper to sell cattle and buy it," they say ; and I suppose they 
know. There are no dairies, and very few potatoes are grown. 
Those on the table at the "Alamo" are from Iowa, of picked sizes, and 
worth from four to eight cents apiece. J\r contra, good lemons can 
be bought at "two bits a dozen;" fish very cheap, and first rate 
Texas beef at the same price as potatoes — six or seven cents per 
pound. The soil hereabouts is slightly sandy; on the slopes it 
changes to a rich black loam, and yields large crops of corn, wheat 
and cotton. 

Thence I journeyed leisurely southward, over a soil like that of the 
Illinois prairies. Not more than one-fifth of this part of Texas is 
fenced in. Corn was two or three inches high, and wheat rather more 
advanced; but the air was still cool enough to make a little fire in 
the evening desirable. Farmers all tell the same story : " Monsus 
late, cold spring; wust since I've been in Texas. Cawn got up three 
inches high; then was cut down by a big frost; then we had two 
weeks o' fine growin' weather, follered by rain an' another frost; now 
the cawn's doin' well agin, an' we've had the rain, an' the air's a 
leetle like light frost, but I hope not." 

We cross many clear streams, lined with timber ; between them are 
strips of high prairie. In the center of the county we stop at Sherman, 
a fine old Texan town, and metropolis of this section before Denison 



LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 409 

was built. Thence our way is down Main Trinity, at an average of 
five miles from the river. As all the timber lies along the streams, Ave 
are much of the time in a forest. It is estimated that one-half of that 
section of Texas east of the Trinity is still covered with the primeval 
forest. All the improvements worth noting are on the prairie, but a 
" free-nigger patch," with demoralized log-hut, occasionally appears in 
the low wooded bottoms, where that class mostly live. Inquiring of 
a philosophical native why this was thus, he replied : "Wall, they 
don't care for the breeze like we. Reckon they want to bleach out. 
You Northern folks are mistaken about that. 'Tain't the heat that 
burns dark ; it's the wind, a-stoppin' the sweat. Folks that live in- 
doors, or in the timber, an' sweat free, are whiter than up North. 
Find as fair girls in Galveston as ever you saw." Whether the 
colored American will, by operation of this principle, eventually 
become a white man, is another question. 

In Collin County we enter the cotton belt proper. Here is a region 
a hundred and fifty miles square, with this county on its northern 
boundary, which could be made to yield more cotton than is now 
grown in all the States east of the Mississippi. Not more than one 
acre in ten of this area is now inclosed ; and, of that inclosed, the 
smallest part is devoted to cotton ; yet the product is already im- 
portant. In the year 1870 the entire State had only 2,964,836 acres 
of land under cultivation, yet the cotton crop amounted to 350,628 
bales. Thirty thousand square miles, suitable to the production of 
cotton, still remain in a state of nature. 

Peaceful as it looks along this route, a short ride would bring one 
into a hostile country. Not fifty miles west is the heavily wooded 
strip known as the Cross Timbers; and, just west of that, the Co- 
manche may occasionally be found in all his savage glory. Tradition 
tells of a time when these fierce nomads were at peace with the whites; 
and tells, too, I am sorry to say, that a long truce was broken by the 
cruel outrage and murder of a Comanche girl by a young Texan. 
The truth of this matter it would be hard to trace, but since that date 
the Comanches have waged unending, inexpiable war. Issuing from 
his hiding-place in the western highlands, the warrior descends with 
remorseless fury upon the settler ; and every man of the tribe has cost 
State or Nation thousands of dollars. 

Thence through Ellis and Navarro counties, the country is of the 
same general description, as far as Corsicana, where I make a long 
halt. Navarro and Corsicana — husband and wife — were wealthy and 
enterprising Mexicans who ruled this region, and owned most of it 



410 



WESTERN WILDS. 



forty-five years ago. They welcomed American immigrants gladly, 
but did not relish the revolution and change of sovereignty, especially 
as it deprived them of many of their rights and privileges. So they 
sold what land they had left, and retired to Mexico. The county 
is named for the husband, the town for the wife. Here I find that 




COMANCHE WAKRIOR. 



summer is rapidly coming north to meet me ; corn is a foot high, and 
the midday heat is a little uncomfortable. Here corn, wheat and cot- 
ton are produced side by side ; but four-fifths of the country is still 
unfenced, and land can be had in abundance at surprisingly low 
rates. The planters tell me three-fourths of a bale of cotton 
to the acre has often been produced ; but they seldom estimate that 



LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS 411 

way, not counting the land as an important item. They say " so many 
bales to the hand/' and consider eight or ten bales for each Avorker a 
fair average. 

The planters are rich in land and cattle, but their style of living is 
strangely primitive. Farm-houses are of an open, roomy sort, with 
porches on three sides usually, built against heat rather than cold. 
Milk and butter are accounted luxuries. There is but one grade of 
society among whites, all living very much alike ; the negroes 
alone constituting the " lower classes." The latter are lazier than the 
whites, which is a dreadful thing to say of them. They might, in ten 
years, own half the land in the country if they would work steadily. 
Fleas are the curse of the country. In Corsicana the dust seems to 
breed them, and house-keepers have a regular science of ways and 
means to get rid of them. Other undesirables are the tarantula and 
centipede, the former a badly slandered creature at the North; for it 
is comparatively harmless, and death very rarely results from its bite. 
The centipede's sting is more venomous; it never strikes unless hurt 
or disturbed, but its venom causes the flesh to rot from the afflicted 
part, leaving the muscles bare. But all unite in saying they never 
knew it to cause death. I am, therefore, inclined to pass as fabulous 
the statement a "returned volunteer" once gave me of this creature: 
"An insect, sir, that runs like lightnin', and spits a juice that'll knock 
your eye out at a rod off"; hit's got a diamond eye, a back like a hairy 
spider, and a belly like a tobacker worm, with a thousand an' forty- 
four legs ; each leg has four stingers, and every stinger carries second 
death." 

From Corsicana the train on the Texas Central Railroad carried me 
nearly straight south, leaving the valley of the Trinity and bearing 
across the high country to the Brazos. Not one acre in ten of this 
region is under fence. All the rest is common pasture, though most 
of it belongs to private owners, and is for sale at two to six dollars per 
acre. The region is high and gently undulating, about one-fifth in 
timber, the rest fertile prairie. My next stopping place was Houston, 
which I thought, at first view, the most beautiful place in Texas. 
There had been a twenty-four-hours' rain, and at 9 A. M. the sun 
shone out clear ; the orange groves, magnolias, and shade trees looked 
their richest green, and Houston presented to the newly arrived 
Northerner a most enchanting appearance. That city, the original 
capital of Texas, is at the head of Buffalo Bayou, a long projection of 
Galveston Bay, but for some days there had been quite a current owing 
to late and heavy rains. Three steamers were anchored in the narrow 



412 WESTERN WILDS. 

channel, and half a dozen or more alligators, abont six feet long, -were 
sunning themselves on the drift-wood. The view there was not lovely, 
but back in the city, and on the level tract in every direction around, 
it was all the tourist could desire. Attending Baptist Sabbath-school 
and Presbyterian Church, I found about three dozen persons at each ; 
whence I argued that the Houstonians are not piously inclined, or that 
a bright Sunday had greater charms outdoors than an orthodox sermon 
within. 

INIonday morning I was early awakened by a few shots, and rose to 
find some of the patriotic citizens celebrating the thirty-seventh anni- 
versary of the battle of San Jacinto. I was evidently in an extreme 
Southern latitude at last. Pictures of Lee and Stonewall Jackson 
adorned the places of resort ; the boys whistled " Bonnie Blue Flag " 
and " Dixie ;" and two of my neighbors at the breakfast table had an 
animated conversation about " the doings of them d — d thieves up at 
Austin," a polite reference to the present legislature. By midday the 
weather was as hot as it would have been in Ohio ; then the \veather- 
wise said : " We'll have a norther," which is recognized as nature's 
regular plan in Texas for settling the weather. The day invited to 
repose ; and Houston is a " reposeful " place. All the dwellings have 
a delightfully home-like look, with wide porches around them, and are 
almost hidden in dark-green groves. If one were rich, and corre- 
spondingly lazy, I can't think of a better place for him. But to be 
poor, in the far South — ah, that is bad! If that's your condition, 
better stop in upper or central Texas. 

Thence to Galveston the " mixed train " consumed four hours in 
going fifty miles. At every station little darkies invaded the train 
to sell gorgeous tropical flowers, especially the immense magnolia 
buds, which expand to the complete flower in a few hours after being 
gathered. The road slopes to the south-east so gently that the eye 
can not perceive the decline, and on the whole route one does not see 
fifty houses. I am curious to see the thickly-settled part of Texas, for 
I have never found it yet. Herds of Texas cattle are seen in all direc- 
tions, and grazing appears to be the only use made of the fertile plain 
extending thirty miles inland from the coast. Nearing the shore we 
find a few houses, surrounded by little farms devoted to fruit, vege- 
tables, and poultry for the Galveston market, but nothing to indicate 
the vicinity of a great city. Passing these we enter open country 
again, and flat, marshy land of little value extends some five miles 
from the Gulf. 

Passing the Confederate earthworks, erected to defend the channel 



LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 413 

against Yankee gun-boats, we enter on the two-mile trestle-work, 
Avhich conducts us to the beautiful island and delightful city of Gal- 
veston. An island of hard white sand, thirty miles long and from 
one to four broad, rises evenly on every side from the salt surf; no- 
where more than ten or twenty feet above high tide, the location has 
just slope enough for convenient drainage. The city is on the noi'th- 
cast end of the island. The streets run with the cardinal points, and 
are lined on both sides with heavy shade-trees. Except in the center 
of town and the business front, on the north side and known as the 
Strand, the houses are surrounded by oranges, oleanders and other 
Southern trees and flowers, the neat white dwellings rising from this 
dark green and leafy mass. All day the gulf breeze sweeps inland 
throuffh the broad streets, and after an hour or two of sultrv calm the 
land breeze blows outward all night. In the morning there is an- 
other warm calm of an hour or two, then the ocean breeze comes 
again. One would think it ought to be the healthiest place in Amer- 
ica. But there are drawbacks. About once in five years the yellow 
fever visits the place. The last time the city was almost entirely 
abandoned. Already the papers and physicians are arguing pro and 
con the momentous question, "Will it come this year?" Late arri- 
vals report it as very bad ac Rio Janeiro, and slowly advancing along 
the " Spanish main." 

It was a gala day in Galveston, and in the evening I found every 
resort thronged, while on the streets bands of music discoursed 
lively airs, and a thousand negroes thronged the streets, " happy as 
clams at high tide." San Jacinto was being celebrated, and every 
body and every thing Texan was mightily glorified. Nothing disloyal 
or unfriendly to the nation was heard, but there was a general agree- 
ment that Texas produced the bravest men in the world. I am too 
good-natured to differ with them. I have run down ten degrees of 
latitude in less than a month, from late winter to early summer, and 
begin to feel the effects of such a change. But in the open halls and 
on the wide porches of the Exchange, with the gulf breeze by day 
and the outward breeze by night, I soon get my constitution accus- 
tomed to a deal of rest, and like the lotus-eaters of Homer's fabled 
isle, having tasted the delights of an ocean beach in the tropics, noth- 
ing but compulsion takes me away. 

No man can ride on the beach there without falling in love with 
Galveston. Between the highest and lowest tide-mark is a fii*m, white 
expanse, some two hundred yards wide, extending around the head of 
the island and down the southern side for thirty miles. The heaviest 



414 WESTERN WILDS. 

carriage-whcol barely marks it, the foot of a horse scarcely dents It ; 
sloping gently to the water's edge, washed occasionally by tiie highest 
tide, and always swept by a gentle wind, it is certainly the most beau- 
tifnl drive on onr coast. From 4 P. M. till dark there is the place 
to see the beauty, wealth and fashion of Galveston. Instead of a 
winter resort, as I had supposed, this is becoming rather a midsum- 
mer resort. Old settlers from Virginia and Kentucky tell me they 
visit those States in the spring or autumn, but make it a point to 
spend midsummer here, for coolness. 

From Galveston to Austin the railroad runs through the very heart 
of Texas, connecting its most important cities; but less than one-fifth 
of the country is inclosed, and every county contains immense tracts 
of fertile, uncultivated land. At Houston more railroads center than 
at any other point in the State — the Galveston Road, the Brazoria 
Road southward into the county of that name, the San Antonio Road 
westward to Colorado County, the Houston & Northern Road into 
Anderson County, and the Texas Central to Red River, with a branch 
from Hempstead to Austin. Along this last line the country seems 
very new, " Too much land in Texas " is the popular explanation. 
In other Western States one finds settlements thick along the eastern 
boundary, and a rapid falling off near the western border; in Texas 
the " border " is all over the State. Settlements and farms are no- 
where coterminous; and until one goes some distance up the slope, 
north-westward, he finds about as many people in one section as an- 
other. The pursuits of the original Texans, a minimum of farming to 
a maximum of hunting and herding, required large open areas between 
the farms. Now cattle-raising, as an exclusive business, is confined 
to the far western portion of the State, and all the center and eastern 
section are calling for immigration. 

Soon after crossing the Brazos, from Austin County into Washing- 
ton, I found an old Arizona acquaintance, the prickly cactus, scattered 
thickly over the prairie — a pretty sure indication that we were get- 
ting into a dryer country. A little further, and we were among the 
mezquit thickets, which look to the stranger very like old peach or- 
chards. They grow in patches on the highest and dryest lands, and 
are full of thorns as long and sharp as needles. 

Soon after we enter Travis County, and descend a beautiful and fer- 
tile slope to the city of Austin, which appears from afar like a scat- 
tered collection of neat white cottages, embowered in groves and 
grass-plats. The cityward bluff of the Colorado rises almost perpen- 
dicular for thirty feet or more from the water's edge, thence a beauti- 



LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 415 

fill plain extends for some two hundred rods northward, and rises by 
a gentle grade to several picturesque knolls. On the crest of the cen- 
tral one, which slopes evenly toward all the cardinal points, stands 
the capitol ; north of it are other public buildings, all around and for 
two miles farther north are the finest private residences, while the 
city proper, of trade and crowded streets, extends from the capitol 
down to the river. Except the main street due south from the cap- 
itol, and a few of the nearest cross-streets, the city appears like an ex- 
tension of retired country seats. At three or four places only is the 
steep bluflp graded down to give a passage to the river ; but north of 
town is a more gentle slope, and a broad sand-bar. On the opposite 
side is a range Of heavily-timbered hills, and all around, flir as the 
eye can see, and twenty miles further, extends a gently rolling coun- 
try, alternating strips of fertile prairie with pretty little groves. The 
commissioners who selected this site for the capitol deserved well of 
their country; but they looked a long way ahead, for it was then 
(1839) " far up the country," on the Indian border, and even now this 
may be considered the western limit of connected settlement. But 
they had faith in the future, and selected the most available spot near 
the geographical center. In 1841 several men were killed by In- 
dians within the corporate limits of the city, and Castro, a Lepan 
chief, was regularly hired by the infant government to scout north 
and west and keep off the Comanches. The growth of the city has 
been slow and regular. 

Here we enter the land of border romance. Hence to the Rio 
Grande south-west, and to the Rocky Ridge west and north-west, ev- 
ery grove, caiion and valley has been the scene of some romantic and 
daring incident ; but should I attempt to repeat all that are told here, 
the world itself, to borrow a simile from Scripture, would not contain 
the books that should be written. Hunters and herders alternately 
fought and fraternized with both Mexicans and Indians, and many a 
brave Texan has risked and suiferecl sudden death by venturing back 
to the hostile region after a favorite Indian girl or senorita. Noted 
among the Avild riders of those days was one Bob Rock, an outcast 
from Mississippi, who, like thousands of others, had sought Texas as a 
land where legal requisitions were not valid. His skill with the rifle 
passed into a proverb. "If Bob Rock draws a bead on him, he's 
gone," was the general verdict. But the desperado was conquered at 
last by a little viestiza, who, though of mixed blood, affected most the 
company of her wild kinsmen; and she, by her native coquetry, suc- 
ceeded in drawing the hunter into the rocky region near the head of 



416 



WESTERN WILDS. 



the Colorado. Attacked most treaclieroii.sly in the tent, the stout 
frontiersman succeeded in breakinj^ the cordon and getting into the 
open plain with his trusty horse and rifle. But he had another range 
of hills to cross, and every pass was guarded, while the nearest pur- 
suer was now but two hundred yards behind him. " I felt orful 
streaked," .said Bob in his account, "but I knowed 'old blaze' had 




"I SPILEU ItIS AIM." 

never failed yet, so I turiie<l, up with the old gal to my eye, and down 
goes Mister Injun. That brought 'em out all 'round, an' I seed — an' 
I done some quick thinkiu' then — that in one pass thar war but one 
injun. He dodged back as I turned agin, to lay for me, but I seed it 



LAS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. 417 

was my first, last and only, and I sot old Sally at a gallop for that 
pint, holdin' 'old blaze' to be ready for him. Sure enough, just a 
minute too soon to take me on-a-wars, Mister Injun riz with his piece 
ready cocked. But I was too quick for him, and spiled his aim. His 
bullet cut pretty close, but mine took him center, and 'fore another 
could get up to the pass I was through an' out, an' I tell you I kept 
clar of that squaw arter that." Fortunately for the community, Bob's 
blood cooled as he grew older, and he settled into a very respectable 
citizen. 

My first call in Austin wa.s upon Governor E. J. Davis, last Repub- 
lican executive of the State, then holding his own against fearful odds. 
Also his Adjutant General, none other than an old Evansville friend, 
Captain Frank Britton, formerly of the Twenty-fifth Indiana Volun- 
teers. Between them and other State officials a hot conflict was 
raging, and the Legislature was devoting all its energies to undoing 
the work of its predecessors, so as to cut down the Governor's power 
as much as possible. This body had lately come into power as the re- 
sult of the revolution of 1872, when the election was carried by the 
Democrats by an overwhelming majority. It was the first State Leg- 
islature I ever saw, and later experience has not changed my first im- 
pression, that it was a very able one. In the House the Democrats 
had three-fourths and in the Senate only lacked three of having two- 
thirds, all very industrious in repealing the laws of preceding Leg- 
islatures. The regular proceeding was to pass a law, send it to the 
Governor, get it back with a veto message, and then spend a week 
bringing over enough Republican Senators to pass it over his veto. 

I was taking notes from Hon. C. B. Sabin, representative from 
Brazoria and Matagorda counties, when Hon. "Shack" Roberts, of 
Harrison County, an immense black man, rose to speak. His address 
was replete with humor and sarcasm, causing great laughter and ap- 
plause. He is a Methodist preacher, very black, and uses the broad- 
est "plantation-darkey" English. The six colored members of the 
House and two in the Senate added a pleasing variety. The members 
generally would compare quite favorably with those of Indiana or 
Ohio. (After that comparison, further description would be " risky.") 

I was introduced to the Honorable " Shack," and after giving his 
testimony to the improved condition of affairs generally, he added : 
"The Methodists have done wonders for our people in edication, and 
Ave're a doin' more. Our church at home — the A. M. E. — has just 
'stablished the Wiley University at Marshall, Texas — named after 
Bishop Wiley. We bought two hundred acres in a mile an' a half of 
27 



418 WESTERN WILDS. 

the court-house, afore the town started up so with the railroad, an' 
now we're sellin' it off fast in huildin' lots at from fifty to two hun- 
dred dollars a lot, savin' just twenty acres in the middle for the uni- 
versity. We'll soon have it runnin', and it will be free to both sexes, 
'thout regard to color or previous condition." 

Texas is the most tolerant and liberal of all the reconstructed States. 
While under Republican rule, very stringent laws had been adopted to 
repress disorder; for the condition of the State just after the war was 
deplorable. Before the war, it had not been as bad as reported, 
though (juite bad enough. For instance, in 1860, with a • population 
of 650,000, Texas had a total of 121 homicides; while New York, 
with 3,000,000 people, had but 37. There was a steady and rapid in- 
crease of crime until 1869, the first year of the new regime, for which 
there are full returns, when the State had no less than 1200 homicides! 
In this state of facts, the leading Republicans brought forward 
M'hat are sometimes called the "Five Administration Measures:" The 
militia law, the State police law, the concealed weapon law, and the 
school and immigration laws. The first authorized the Governor to 
suspend the habeas corpus at his discretion, to order the militia from 
any part of the State to another part, and to arm any portion of the 
population in any disturbed neighborhood. The police law organized 
a small body of mounted men, to be continually under pay of the 
State, and ready to go to any section. They never numbered more 
than three hundred. 

Many brave Confederate soldiers joined this militia and aided in 
putting down disorder. The moral effect was tremendous. Eight 
hundred robbers and desperadoes fled the State in a body. There was 
a hanging in every county, till in the State, except in the extreme 
west, life and property were as secure as in New England. Then, un- 
fortunately, these extraordinary powers were perverted. It was the 
old story over again : a condition of strife and social disorder leads to 
the placing of immense power in one man's hands; but when the dis- 
order is passed, the ruler has grown too fond of his power to part with 
it without a struggle, and employs it to crush opposition. The people 
seek refuge from anarchy in a sort of legal despotism, and are driven 
by despotism into anarchy. In 1872 the State police were used to 
break up Democratic and Liberal-Republican meetings. But in an- 
other year the revolution was complete. Governor Davis yielded, in 
an awkward hurry, to a Democratic Governor, and now Texas is the 
most solid outpost of the " Solid South." 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

TEXAS CONTINUED. 

Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la Salle, led the first European im- 
migrants to Texas, landing near the entrance to Matagorda Bay, on 
the 18th of February, 1685. William Penn had founded Philadelphia 
three years before; the French were stretching their settlements from 
Canada down the western rivers, and the Spaniards were advancing 
slowly northward into New Mexico. A hundred and fifty years before, 
some survivors of the Pamphilo de Narvaez expedition had traversed 
Texas as captives among the Indians, but no title to the country could 
result therefrom. 

La Salle, as American history calls him, had discovered the mouth 
of the Mississippi, April 7th, 1682, and soon after took possession of 
all that region by proclamation and proces verbal, in the name of 
Louis XIV. He was on his return with four ships to make a settle- 
ment, when an error in his calculations brought him on the Texan 
coast. All his people M'ere in ecstasies over the beauty and richness 
of the country, and a settlement was agreed upon at once. Soon after 
they moved over on a stream they called Les Vaches, which the 
Spaniards afterwards translated into La Vaca, both meaning " the cow-s." 
Hard work and imprudence in such a climate produced sickness ; care- 
lessness led to murders by the Indians; Beaujeu, commander of the 
fleet, sailed away with two of the vessels ; one of the other two was 
soon after wrecked, and the little colony got badly discouraged. By 
the law of nations this country, thinly occupied by wild Indians, now 
belonged to France ; but in due time Spain took a different view of it, 
relying on previous Spanish explorations, never proved however, to 
the satisfaction of diplomats. Near the close of the sixteenth century 
Philip IL, the gloomy tyrant of Spain, issued a royal order forbid- 
ding all foreigners to enter this territory under penalty of extermina- 
tion. Thus began a "border question," which, passing down suc- 
cessively from Spaniard to Mexican, and from French to English and 
American, lasted two centuries and a half, till settled by the treaty of 
Guadalupe Hidalgo, on the 2d of February, 1848. In this contro- 



420 WESTERN WILDS. 

versy, rouder, find the key to the wliole hi.story of Texas as oonnected 
with other ooverniner.ts. 

Its settlement eost the lives of many thousand good men. The 
Comanehes were then, as now, a raee of nomadie thieves ; the Lij)ans and 
Carankawaes dominated the country between the llio Grande and Col- 
orado. Other tribes were the Caddoes, Cenis and Nassonites. Texas 
had neither boundaries nor a name. The origin of the latter nobody 
knows, but it is supposed to be from an Indian Avord meaning " good 
hunting-ground," and was long spelled indifferently Tehas, Tejas, 
Tekas or Texas, which differ very little in Spanish pronunciation. 
Even now the residents are known as Tejanos (p'o. Teh-hah-noes) by 
the Mexicans. 

La Salle started northward \vith a considerable company, to open 
communication with Canada ; and was murdered by two of his men. 
The survivors quarreled among themselves; the murderers were 
in turn assassinated; others were drowned or captured, and of all 
that colony only five lived to see France again. Those left on the 
Lavaca were surprised by the Indians, part killed, and the rest carried 
into captivity, whence in old age they were reclaimed by the mission- 
aries. Thus ended the first settlement in Texas. 

Soon after the Spaniards planted missions and military posts in the 
south-west, but drought and hostile Indians drove them out, and for 
twenty years the country had not one white inhabitant. In 1712 
Louis XIV granted to Anthony Crozat all Louisiana, as far west as 
the Rio Grande, and sent out an embassy, which was captured by the 
Spaniards. "The year of Missions " in Texas was 1715, when the 
Spaniards began again to ])lant them in the country. Thereafter it 
was permanently occupied by Spain, and its various sections known as 
the New Philippines and New Estremadura. For some fifty years 
now^ w'c have the Mission Period, as in all Spanish American countries. 
Those in Texas were controlled by zealous Franciscan priests, who 
spent a life-time in toil to convert the savage natives. At each mis- 
sion was a presidio, or commandant's head-quarters, with officers 
enough for two hundred and fifty men, though the latter rarely num- 
bered so many. The first move Avas to capture by force or stratagem 
a hundred or more Indians. On these kindness and persuasion were 
exhausted, and they were taught all the ceremonies of an exceedingly 
ceremonial religion. When sufficiently trusty tliey were sent out to 
persuade others in; abundance of food was insured them, agriculture 
was taught, all the feasts and fasts were scrupulously observed, and at 
some missions the daily exercises in prayer and other services occupied 



TEXA S— CONTIXUED. 



421 



five hours! Those whom this system converted it in due time wore 
out; those wlio resisted it were made wilder than ever. Then the 
fathers began with the women and children, with far better success; 
and in due time there grew up about each mission a considerable pop- 
ulation of domesticated Indians, who cultivated the soil, were pain- 
fully pious and as docile as sheep. The fathers called themselves 




UN INDIO BRAVO —TEXAS. 

gcnte de razon, or people of reason, in contradistinction to the 
heathen; but in due time arose a better nomenclature. The wild 
Indians were known as Indios bravos, the converted as Indios rcducidos. 
And badly "reduced" they were. Little by little the reduddos were 
merged, largely by intermarriage with discharged soldiers. Hence the 
mestizoes, nearly the same as regular Mexicans of the present day. 



422 WESTERN WILDS. 

Meanwhile great things had happened in Europe, which clianged 
the political map of America. William of Orange, the Champion of 
Protestantism — if he had not been that, we should have thought 
him a sullen Dutchman — had fairly worn out Louis XIV, and made 
peace with him. But soon after, the lunatic King of Spain died, and 
all the other lunatics fell to cutting each other's throats about tiie 
" balance of power,'' that mysterious abstraction which has caused 
more wholesale murder in modern Europe than all other causes com- 
bined. The English, Dutch and Germans would not allow the crown 
of Spain to be bestowed on Philip of Anjou, grandson of Louis XIV, 
as provided by Philip of Spain, in his so-called Avill. Hence another 
bloody war, and a general rearrangement at the treaty of Ryswick. 
But this left open certain questions between France and Spain ; so they 
went to war in 1718. 

The Louisiana French attacked and drove out the Spaniards as far 
west as Bexar. But the latter soon recovered the country. After a 
deal of reconnoitering, some sharp fighting, and many brave actions 
and romantic incidents in Texas, a sort of peace was patched up be- 
tween France and Spain, and the latter determined to colonize Texas 
regularly. Soon after, the French handed over Louisiana to the 
Mississippi Company, then controlled by the notorious John Law, the 
original " greenbacker " and great " soft money " advocate. Other 
schemes now occupied the two nations, and their respective colonists 
had time to attend to legitimate business. In 1728, Spain sent to 
Texas several families from the Canary Isles, then peopled by a race 
known above all Spaniards for rigid adherence to the Catholic Church, 
domestic purity, and respect for women. Another colony came, com- 
posed of the original Tlascalans, whom Cortez could not conquer j 
they assisted greatly in capturing Indios bravos for conversion. But 
the country was in bad shape. Many dissolute soldiers had been dis- 
charged there. It invited wanderers and adventurers; and had a bad 
name as early as 1750. Apache and Comanche raids were frequent, 
and pirates began to hover along the coast. So in 1745, Texas con- 
tained no more than 1,500 whites — less than in 1722. 3Iestizoes and 
"converted Indians" were more numerous. 

Thence to 1758 there was a dead calm. That year the Indians cap- 
tured San Saba Mission, and killed every one there. Thenceforward 
the missions declined. Meanwhile England and France got to fight- 
ing again ; there was, therefore, a general rectification of boundaries in 
America, and a new deal all around the board in Europe. France 
Avas so weakened by this contest, that in 1762 she ceded Louisiana to 



TEXAS— CONTINUED. 423 

Spain, to keep England from getting it. Bear in mind that Louisiana 
then meant all the country drained by the Mississippi, except where 
the English had obtained prior rights on its eastern affluents. Next 
year peace was made, by which England got Canada and all the 
French country east of the Mississippi and above the present Louisi- 
ana. One clause in that treaty was afterwards of immense importance 
to the United States, viz. : " The navigation of the Mississippi to be 
free to the subjects of both England and France." 

This state of aifairs continued forty years, and was of immense ad- 
vantage to Texas ; the missions died out, and regular colonists began 
to take their place. Meanwhile the American Revolution occurred, 
and there was no end of fighting between England on one side and 
France and Spain on the other. Spain refused the free navigation of 
the Mississippi, and the people of the western States swore they would 
take it by force. Then the French Revolution took place, and for 
awhile France had to fight all the rest of Europe. By secret treaty in 
1800, Louisiana was transferred back from Spain to France, though the 
United States did not know it till two years after. All this time the 
boundaries of Texas and Louisiana had remained unsettled ; the 
French had often claimed as far west as the Rio Grande, the Span- 
iards always as far east as the Sabine. This condition invited revolu- 
tionists and adventurous spirits, and there were numerous incursions, 
battles, skirmishes, and massacres which have no connection with the 
general history. Meanwhile the French Revolution progressed ; Bon- 
aparte got control of that country, and found himself engaged in a 
life and death struggle with England, He could not hold Louisiana, 
and needed money; the United States was on hand with the cash, the 
sale was made, and the transfer completed by imposing ceremonies in 
New Orleans, in December, 1803. 

This brought up the old border question in a new shape. While the 
diplomats of Spain and the United States used up two years in at- 
tempts at a treaty, the provinces were a dozen times on the point of 
actual war. Governor Claiborne, of Louisiana, called out the militia, 
and forbade the Spaniards to cross the Sabine. At length it was set- 
tled that the strip between the Sabine and Arroyo Hondo should be 
neutral ground for the present. This was a beautiful arrangement. 
Of course the neutral strip was soon infested by desperadoes, and 
countless robberies and outrages were perpetrated. In one instance 
two desperadoes were captured, and to make them betray their com- 
panions were severely whipped. Then live coals were passed over 
their raw and bleeding backs. But they were gritty rascals, and re- 



424 WESTERN WILDS. 

fused to the last. To this stage of Texan history belong the establish- 
ments on the coast by pirates and smugglers, such as that of La Fitte at 
Barataria. 

Early in 1812, Lieutenant A. W. Magee, left his post in the United 
States territory, and M'ith a mixed force of adventurers from the 
States, volunteers from the neutral ground, and natives of Texas of 
Spanish blood, marched Avcstward to redeem that region from the rule 
of Spain. There had been a sort of civil war in Mexico between the 
popular party and the aristocrats; the Anglo-Texans had taken the 
popular side, and Magee came in to assist them. It would have been 
money in his pocket and in theirs had he stayed away. He was 
steadily victorious till he reached La Bahia, west of the Guadaloupe. 
There he was confronted by a large force under Salado, and agreed to 
retire. This his men refused to accede to, and at once attacked the 
Spaniards, and gained a bloody victory. Overcome with shame, Magee 
died by his own hand. After various successes this army fell into an 
ambuscade, and were nearly all killed or captured. The prisoners 
were brutally murdered by the Spaniards. 

Bonaparte's wars were now stirring up devilment and wholesale 
murder in every corner of the civilized world. He had invaded Spain, 
deposed the feeble king, banished the royal family, then at war with 
itself, and put his brother Joseph on the throne. Two Spanish parties 
at once arose : for accepting Joseph and for opposing him. Blood 
flowed on all sides. The divisions extended to all Spanish America. 
In Mexico the ruling classes favored Joseph Bonaparte; the common 
people supported the juntas, or revolutionary bodies which resisted 
him. On all sides the standard of revolt Avas raised. The Indians 
burned to avenge the wrongs of three centuries ; the common Mex- 
icans were greedy for spoil ; the Church labored for aggrandizement. 
There were murders and riots in every section ; towns were sacked and 
prisoners massacred by thousands, and Mexico entered upon that ca- 
reer of bloody anarchy which has continued with only occasional in- 
termissions to this day. When this condition was at its worst, war 
broke out between England and the United States. La Fitte and other 
pirates and smugglers received a general pardon for serving under 
General Jackson at the battle of New Orleans, and after the peace re- 
turned and took possession of Galveston Island. There they set up 
an independent government — the most ridiculous little sovereignty that 
ever existed — which flourished greatly until broken up by the Amer- 
ican authorities. 

Mexico obtained her independence, and established the celebrated 



TEXAS— CONTINUED. 425 

Constitution of 1824, about which there has been so much fighting 
since. We have seen how the division in Spain excited revolution in 
Mexico ; in exactly the same way civil war in Mexico brought on re- 
volt, and finally independence, in Texas. No sooner was the Constitu- 
tion of 1824 adopted, than the ruling classes insisted on a strong 
central government, the reduction of the States to departments, and a 
president with greater powers. These were called Centralists ; their 
opponents Federalists — a name meaning the exact opposite of what it 
does in the United States. Santa Anna, by intrigue, treachery, and 
the suj^port of the Church, obtained control as a Centralist; his great 
rival Bustamente stirred up numerous revolutions among the Federal- 
ists. At first Texas appeared equally divided, but in no long time the 
Federalists got control, as it was obviously for her interests that there 
should be separate State governments. Embassies and petitions were 
sent to Mexico City; the petitions were disregarded, the envoys often 
imprisoned. Thus, little by little the war spirit was excited in Texas. 

Meanwhile Moses Austin had obtained his large grant of land in 
Texas from the Mexican government, and dying, left its settlement to 
his son Stephen. Having completed this work, Stephen Austin took 
an active part in political aifairs, and went to Mexico as an envoy 
from Texas. There he was thrown into prison, where he remained 
two years and a half. All this time the Mexicans went on pulling 
down one and setting up another ; and, as the result of half a dozen 
revolutions, Bustamente and the Federalists came into power. But 
their rule was as bad for Texas as that of the Centralists. They con- 
cluded that the Territory contained too many Americans, and forbade 
the immigration of any more! They passed about all the vexatious 
laws against free trade they could think of. Whenever it was certified 
to them that the Anglo-Texans were making money on any article, 
they straightway proceeded to restrict its sale or production. Among 
other bright laws, was one that no planter in Texas should sow more 
than one bushel of tobacco seed ! Tobacco growers will see the 
point. The largest planter in Ohio does not use a gill. 

To further aggravate the Texans, their province was attached to 
Coahuila. The Mexicans of that State furnished two-thirds of the 
legislature ; and the inhabited part of Texas was nearly a thousand 
miles from the State capital. The Texans agitated and interceded for 
a separate government ; the Mexican authorities responded by a more 
oppressive tarilF law, and by introducing garrisons into the country to 
overawe the " rebels." Meanwhile there was another revolution in 
Mexico. Bustamente retired, Santa Anna took the reins, and estab- 



426 



WESTERN WILDS. 



lished the firmest government Mexico ever enjoyed. As soon as he 
had tranquillized the other States, hanged and shot a few dozen of 
his opponents, and banished the rest, he collected a large array and 
marched on Texas, to settle things, as he said, effectually. He did it ; 
but not exactly as he had intended. 

The white population of Texas did not exceed 50,000. They had 

been divided, but the approach 
of the army united them ; and 
they resolved on independence. 
Their army easily drove out the 
feeble garrisons in South-western 
Texas, but in no long time was 
overwhelmed by disaster. Early 
in 1836, Santa Anna entered the 
Territory with an army of 8,000 
men, sending word to the Tex- 
ans that he intended to " sweep 
away every thing save the rec- 
ollection that they once existed." 
The brave William Barret Travis 
commanded the Alamo Fort with 
only a hundred and thirty men. 
He sent off, with all speed, for 
reiiiforcements ; announced that 
ho iMOuld hold the place till the 
rest of the country could be put in posture for defense, and con- 
cluded with the words: " God and Texas! Liberty or Death!" 
Of that hundred and thirty men, only Moses Rose escaped ; and 
he, ashamed of having abandoned his companions, and slipped out 
through the Mexicans at the last hour, never gave account of the 
siege till on his death-bed. For two weeks the Mexicans kept it up, 
making daily assaults, and being picked off by the Texan rifles. The 
last evening the enemy withdrew to prepare for a final assault. Travis 
ranged his few surviving followers, and thus addressed them : 

" Men, we must die ! Our speedy massacre is a fixed fact. Let us 
choose that mode which can best serve our country. If we surrender, 
we shall be shot; if we try to cut our way out, we shall be butchered 
before we can kill twenty of the enemy. AVe could but lose our lives 
without benefiting our friends — our fathers and mothers, our brothers 
and sisters, our Avives and little ones. Let us, then, vow to die to- 
gether. Let iis kill as many as possible. Kill them as they scale the 




TEXAS AND COAHUILA IN 1830. 



TEXAS— CONTINUED. 427 

v/<all ! Kill them as they leap in ! Kill them as they raise their 
weapons; and continue to kill them as long as one of us shall remain 
alive. And, be assured, our memory will be gratefully cherished till 
all history shall be erased and noble deeds be forgotten among men. 
God and Texas! Liberiy or Death!" 

He then traced a line with his sword, requesting all who would die 
with him to step over it. Every one complied but Rose. He, dis- 
guised as a Mexican, and speaking the language fluently, crawled out 
down a ravine and escaped. Long before daylight the Mexicans ad- 
vanced, with discharges of musketry and cannon. The cavalry formed 
a ring around the infantry, for the double purpose of urging them on 
and preventing the escape of any of the garrison. Pressed on by those 
behind, the foremost assailants tumbled inside the walls by hun- 
dreds. Every Texan died fighting. Travis was shot, and a Mexican 
officer rushed forward to dispatch him ; he rallied all his strength, 
pierced his assailant with his sword, and both expired together. Major 
Evans was- shot in the act of attempting to fire the magazine. Bowie, 
then disabled, was butchered in his bed. When only seven were 
left they asked for quarter. It was refused ; and, drawing their 
bowie-knives, they rushed to a final assault, and died on the bayo- 
nets of their foes. Their remains were savagely mutilated and re- 
fused burial. 

Among the slain was one, with bowie-knife clinched in his stiffened 
hand, and surrounded by a heap of the fallen enemy, whose counte- 
nance bore even in death the impress of that nobleness which had an- 
imated it in life, conjoined with the healthful freshness of the hunter's 
aspect. It was Colonel David Crockett, of Tennessee — a man whose 
real life was a romance more thrilling than novelist ever portrayed. 
He was a product of nature in her most bounteous clime, of active life 
and free institutions. In chiklhood the axe and the rifle were his 
playthings ; in early manhood he fought for his country against the 
British, and in peace his personal qualities earned promotion from his 
neighbors. Hospitality kept cheerful watch at his door ; Melcome sat 
smiling at his table, and social humor gleamed in his bright eye. His 
career in Congress was not a success, but gave him a keener relish for 
a free, western life; and he left his native State for Texas, to assist in 
making her free. Brave Crockett, thou didst deserve a better fate; but 
in thy death was born a zeal for Texan freedom which did more than 
a thousand lives. In thy memory the State has a legacy that will 
glorify her early annals, and animate her sons till the last hour of 
her existence. 



428 



WES TEE X WILDS. 



The best acoouiits place the Mexican loss at twelve huiidred. Th& 
dead heroes had accomplished their object ; Santa Anna was weak- 
ened and delayed, and the young State was saved. Shortly after 
Colonel Fannin, with fonr hnndred men, began his retreat from 
Goliad to Victoria; i)at was surrounded, and surrendered his com- 
mand to General Urrea, as prisoners of war. They were barbarously 
massacred by order of Santa Anna, only a few medical men being 

spared, because the 
Mexican army need- 
ed them. On all 
sides the Anglo- 
Texan families now 
fled before the in- 
vaders ; the latter 
followed close, burn- 
ing every thing they 
could not carry 
away. Finally Gen- 
eral Sam Houston, 
the Commander-in- 
Chief, with only 
eight hundred men^ 



made a stand a t 
San Jacinto, on 
B u ff a 1 o B a y o u, 
where he was at- 
tacked by the whole 
army of Santa Anna. 
The Texans a d- 
vanced furiously to 
the charge, a hand-to-hand combat followed, and in one hour the 
Mexicans fled in confusion, leaving six hundred and thirty dead 
upon the field, and eight hundred prisoners in the hands of the 
Texans. This battle, fought April 21st, 1836, settled the question 
of independence forever. Early next morning a party of Texans 
found, hidden in a marsh near the bayou, a slender and light coni- 
plexioned man, wearing a valuable ring on his finger, but awkwardly 
clad in the dress of a common Mexican soldier. He begged for his 
life ; and when his captors told him he was safe, seized the dirty hand 
of the nearest and covered it with kisses ! It was Santa Anna I 
Other Mexican officers, similarly disguised, were detected in like 




GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 



TEXAS— CONTINUED. 429 

manner by their complexion; for the officers are, as a lule, of purer 
Spanish blood than the privates. 

When brought to General Houston, stiff with cold and barely able 
to speak, the prisoner announced his name and rank, and asked for 
opium. Having swallowed this, his spirits soon revived, and address- 
ing Houston with lofty dignity, he said: "Sir, you are born to no 
ordinary destiny; you have conquered the Napoleon of the AVest!" 
Modesty never was Santa Anna's strong suit. 

While a captive he acknowledged the independence of Texas, but 
repudiated it when free; and a feeble sort of border war went on for 
eight years, the Texans making several expeditions against Santa Fe, 
all of which proved unsuccessful. In these and the Mier expedition 
many barbarities were committed — some on both sides. Then came 
the annexation to the United States, the Mexican war, the period of 
development, and the war of the Rebellion, all of M-hich are within 
the memory of men yet young. Texas suffered less from the late war 
than any other Southern State. Her soil was barely touched upon the 
border by invading Federals. She was smart enough to let Confed- 
erate money alone, and stick to gold and silver, which constitute her 
currency to-day. Soon after the war the spirit of immigration revived, 
and since 1872 Texas has been receiving settlers at the average rate 
of two or three thousand per week. And still there is room. Of 
her 270,000 square miles, or thereabout, one-third or more is as fer- 
tile as any part of the West; one-third is less fertile, but of great 
value for grazing ; the remainder, lying far up the slope, is dotted 
with rocky hills and sandy wastes. The Staked Plain, so called 
from the stakes with which the Mexicans marked a road across it, is 
mostly an irreclaimable desert. As in all the border States, fertility 
decreases as one goes towards the heads of the streams, up the slope 
and away from the larger bodies of water and timber. Her 100,000 
square miles of fertile land now contain at least 1,200,000 inhab- 
itants; and there is land abundant for twice as many more. She can 
accommodate the surplus population of the Southern and Middle- 
Western States for fifty years. 

Dallas is the center of a region two hundred miles square, which is 
eminently fitted for occupation by Northern men. In the upper sec- 
tions corn, wheat and cotton grow side by side ; farther down corn 
and cotton are the staples. It is high, dry and healthful; but North- 
erners should not settle on the " bottom lands " along the streams. 
Even Texans incline to surrender them to the freedmen. Southern 
Texas would not suit the majority of Northern born settlers. Not 



430 WESTERN WILDS. 

that it is so hot, but the lieat continues longer, and in winter the 
extremes are painful. Warm, moist Aveather is generally followed 
very suddenly by a "blue norther" that pinches one fearfully. The 
streams are more sluggish, too, and malaria is to be apprehended. 
Some constitutions stand it very well, however. The grazing region 
])roper is in the south-west and west. 

The central portion of Western Texas is regarded as tlio best sheep 
country in the State. It is a broken, high, rolling country, sup2:)lied 
Avith an abundance of rocks and clear rippling streams, and excellent ' 
grass. The sheep fatten easily, grow magnificent fleeces ; and owing 
to the mild climate, the herders are very successful in raising the 
lambs, the percentage of loss being very small. 

Except in the southern part, most of Western Texas is too dry for 
agriculture to be a certain resource Avithout irrigation ; but by reports 
of engineers, a considerable portion of the land can be Avatered by 
acccquias from the numerous riA^ers. By far the largest portion AA-ill 
remain a grazing ground for all time. 

In all the central and upper part of the State AA^ater-power is 
abundant. All kinds of useful minerals can be had in the various 
sections: iron in Burnet, Llano, Lampasas and Mason counties, of 
the best qualities ; copper in scA'eral places, and salt in abundance. 
Gypsum is found in immense beds up in the desert region. Stretching 
OA'^er ten degrees of latitude, and from the 16° to 30° degree of longitude 
Avest from Washington, it is evident the State can not be described 
as a Avhole, or in any general terms. EA^ery thing said about Texas, 
Avhether good or bad, is true — if applied to the appropriate section. 
It reaches to Avithin one-half degree of as far south as does Florida; 
Avhile its northern boundary is nearly continuous AA'itli the northern 
line of Tennessee. But its climate and productions are not determined 
by latitude alone. The entire State consists of one great slope — or, 
perhaps more properly, a series of narroAV plateaus, each breaking 
gently to the next loAver — from near the foot of the Rocky Mount- 
ains to the Gulf of Mexico. On the eastern border the slope is nearly 
due south, and on the extreme south nearly due east; but in four- 
fifths of the State it is south-east. From the high, bare plains of the 
North-Avest, and from the wind-caves of the Rocky Mountains, the 
" blue northers " sweep down over the Llano Estacado and treeless 
plains of Young and Bexar Districts, and greatly modify the climate 
to a much loAver latitude. But doAvn the streams the increasing tim- 
ber lessens their force. The climate is singularly equable for the Avidth 



TEXAS— CONTINUED. 431 

of three or four counties, and then the heat increases rapidly till you 
again get within range of the tempering breezes from the gulf. 

The thermometer never ranges quite as high as in latitudes a long 
way north. In Houston the climate seems nearly perfection. For 
twenty years the thermometer has never been above ninety-five 
degrees. At one time, in the coldest weather, it sank to ten degrees 
above zero, but rarely goes lower than twenty degrees. The average 
of the " heated term," one day with another, is there recorded at 
eighty-four degrees. There has never been a case of sunstroke at 
Houston. Only half a dozen are recorded at Galveston. Necessa- 
rily, over such an area as I have outlined, we find every product of 
the temperate zone, and many of the torrid. In popular language, 
then, Texas is considered in four grand divisions. Eastern Texas 
includes the country from the Sabine to the Trinity River ; Central 
Texas, that from the Trinity to the Colorado; Northern Texas means 
the two or three tiers of counties nearest Red River, and all of Young 
Territory; and Western Texas the whole region from the Colorado 
to the Rio Grande, including the grazing district. 

The old Texans are not very enterprising. With seven million 
cattle they import most of their milk and butter; there has been too 
much sameness of production ; the climate invites to ease and repose, 
and the people are too contented. A man with ten thousand cattle 
upon the range, is content to live on corn-bread and boiled beef, sit 
on a hickory "shakeup" chair, sleep on shucks, live in a board or 
log "shantie," chew "home-made" tobacco, and spit through the 
cracks. 

"An undeveloped empire," hackneyed comparison for the West, is 
literal truth applied to Texas. In 1850 the population was only 
212,592; in 1860 it was 604,215; in 1870 it was returned at 818,579, 
and at 1,592,574 by the last census. And even now an area nearly 
three times as large as Ohio, with an equal average of fertility, and 
climate suitable for corn, cotton, tobacco, and a dozen kinds of fruit, is 
literally begging for inhabitants. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

KANSAS REVISITED. 

In August, 1873, T took a flying tour through the new counties in 
Southern Kansas. It was the year of Grangers, land leaguers and 
war on the railroads. Kansas had been, in the expressive language 
of. the border, "railroaded to death." More lines had been con- 
structed than the business of the country would demand for ten or 
twenty years to come. Except perhaps the one through line, none 
of the roads were paying more than running expenses. The mana- 
gers made out to pay their own salaries by the sale of lands granted 
the roads by State or Nation. The capital invested in the roads was 
a dead loss, as far as present dividends were concerned. But stock- 
holders insisted on some returns, and the managers attempted to 
squeeze out a few dollars by cutting down their employes on one 
side and raising freights on the other. It took three bushels of 
corn to send one to the sea-board ; hence grain worth sixty cents in 
New York, sold for fifteen cents in Kansas. The premonitory 
symptoms of the approaching panic were every-where manifest; but 
the Grangers, feeling that something was wrong, struck at the nearest 
object — the railroads. 

It was a vain struggle. Where the roads were making nothing, 
it was obviously impossible for them to divide profits with the pro- 
ducers. On the fertile plains of South-eastern Kansas, one man with 
a "walking cultivator" could attend to forty acres of corn, which 
yielded in an average season from forty to eighty bushels per acre. 
One man, between the middle of April and the middle of August, 
could produce from fifteen hundred to forty-five hundred bushels of 
corn; but in the midst of abundance they were poor in all save the 
bare necessaries of life. "Droughty Kansas" was a standing joke. 
On the eastern border of that area which the old geographers called 
the "American Desert," corn was a drug; and flaming agricultural 
reports were headed with sarcastic pictures of mammoth pumpkins, 
flit cattle, and forests of corn-stalks to which the farmer ascended by 
step-ladders to secure his crop. But the seven years of plenty ended 
with 1878. Eis^htecn months after, corn in the same localities was 



KANSAS BE VISITED. 



43^ 




I 



worth a dollar a bushel. The dry year of 1874 brought with it 
grasshoppers, cut- worms and chintz-bugs; and in the period between 
that and the plentiful crop of 1875, the settlers suifered, as they 
thought, enough for seven years of want. Is this to be the future of 
Kansas? Must she have every fifth or seventh year a sea>on of 
d r o u g h t and barren- 
ness ? AVell, yes ; and 
no ! On the one hand 
I am convinced that 
all the States which 
b o r d e r on the dry 
plains will have occa- 
sional seasons of ex- 
treme drought; on the 
other, I am sure settle- 
ment will be followed 
by a modification of 
the climate, and that 
as the country grows 
older the citizens will 

1 1 i^ „ 1 "DROUGHTY KANSAS." 

learn how to guard 

against famine years. Their true remedy is not a war on the rail- 
roads, but diversification of crops, the establishment of home manu- 
factures, and, above all, improved methods of stock-breeding. Kan- 
sas is emphatically a "stock country." I am afraid to say how 
much margin there is for skillful men ; but I personally know stock- 
growers who have made from thirty to sixty per cent yearly on their 
capital for many years in succession. Cattle fatten upon the open 
prairie for seven months in the year, and sheep a month longer. 
First rate prairie hay, on which stock will keep fat all winter, can 
be put up for two dollars per ton. The climate is dry in winter, 
very suitable for cattle and especially so for sheep; and there have 
never been grasshoppers enough to spoil the pasture. What matters 
it, then, if the grain crop does fiiil every fifth year, when the other 
years are so productive? What is needed is improved stock, and a 
little care to guard against the occasional winter storms, 

Kansas has woman-suifrage on a small scale. Women can vote at 
all school meetings ; and at Geneva, in Allen County, I found the 
community wrestling with school politics in a new phase. The am- 
bitious little " city " had started oif with an academy, which was in 
due time to grow into a college; but, instead, it grew the other wav, 
28 



434 WESTERN WILDS. 

ami was rcdiutcd to a graded school. This called for u reorganiza- 
tion of an adjoining district; local questions entered into the con- 
test, and party feeling ran high. The men and women assembled on 
the day ap})ointed for a school election; the women got to (quarreling, 
and that, of course, drew in the men. One little man was badly in- 
sulted, upon which his large and brawny wife rushed in with an em- 
phatic statement that " her Benny shoukl not be imposed on." It is 
hinted by local chroniclers that hard names, "cuss words," stove- 
wood and other missiles flew about with disgusting recklessness. 
The election was set aside for fraud, and the question at issue went 
to the courts for settlement. "The ameliorating influence of women 
at the polls" was not apparent in that township. 

Thence southward into Neosho County, we found the fertile vales 
every-where dark green with dense masses of corn. Soon after cross- 
ing the line it was evident we were in a county where the "herd 
law" prevailed. Xo fences were seen around the corn-fields; but 
neither were there any large herds of cattle feeding on the slopes. 
'fhe Legislature has cantoned out the law-making power; each 
county has the right to adopt or reject the "herd law" for itself. 
Many and hot are the resulting contests. In counties where the cat- 
tle interest is strongest the law is defeated, and cultivators must 
fence in their crops; elsewhere the cultivated fields have no fences, 
but stock are fenced in or herded by the boys. The agriculturists 
state, with some point, that they are not at all afraid their corn will 
encroach on the cattle; the latter must be guarded by their owners. 
Through these counties one often sees the poor calves tied to the fence, 
while their bovine mammas are driven to distant ridges for the day. 
And, by the way, it was a calf thus tied, abandoned and dead for 
want of water, which first showed that the notorious Benders had 
fled. 

Our party of four visited the Bender farm while yet the country 
was ringing with the story of their crimes. Taking an open hack at 
Cherryvale, Montgomery County, we drove seven miles north-east 
over as beautiful a prairie as God ever adorned or man defiled. At 
that distance out we descended by a gentle slope to Murderer's Vale. 
On the north and east rose those picturesque mounds which so ro- 
mantically diversify this region; to the south and west the fertile 
prairie, now dotted with cultivated fields, or brilliant with rank 
grass and flowers, spread as far as the eye could reach; between 
was a slight depression of perhaps two square miles, from which a 
little run put out north-east, and in the center of this happy valley 



KANSAS REVISITED. 435 

was the Bender farm. If the spirit of murder was there, it was cer- 
tainly the loveliest form in which that dread spirit ever stood re- 
vealed. No black and blasted heath, no dark wood or lonely gorge, 
such as romance makes the mute accessories of horrid crime; but the 
billowy prairie, rising swell on swell, as if the undulating ocean, 
changed to firm set earth, stood fixed and motionless forever. The 
house had stood in the center of this vale, two miles from the nearest 
neighbor, and commanding a view of all approaches for that distance. 
But a few weeks had passed since the murders were discovered, and yet 
scarcely a vestige of house or stable was left. Visitors had carried 
them away by splinters! Even the young trees in the orchard had 
been dug up and removed. 

The excavation beneath the house, in which the murderers had al- 
lowed their victims to bleed before burial, still bore the horrid signs. 
The scant rains of summer had not washed away the blood from its 
margin; it was half full of purple water. In the garden the graves 
remained just as left when the bodies were removed. Eight bodies 
were found there, including that of a girl eight years old, who was 
murdered and buried with her father. They had been buried in all 
sorts of positions. One man, in a round hole, lay with his head di- 
rectly betAveen his feet. A Mr. Longcor, one of the victims, lay with 
his little daughter between his limbs. Besides these eight, three 
other missing men were traced to the neighborhood, bringing the 
whole number of victims up to eleven. Other murders have excited 
the community, but none with such circumstances of barbarity as 
these. It appeared, from an examination of the house (the Benders 
kept a sort of hotel), that the victim, when seated at the table, had 
his back against a loose curtain which separated the room in two 
apartments. Behind this curtain stood the murderer, and, at a con- 
venient moment, dealt the unsuspecting guest a deadly blow in the 
back of the head with a huge hammer. He fell back, the trap-door 
was raised, his throat was cut, and he was tumbled into the pit to He 
till the last drop of gore had ebbed away. Thence he was taken at 
night and buried in the garden. And these fiends incarnate, after 
this fearful violation of the rites of hospitality and the laws of God 
and man, went on with their daily life — ate and drank and slept, and 
perhaps rejoiced and made merry, with that dreadful pool, fast filling 
with the blood of their victims, just beneath their feet. 

The nearest neighbor was a German, named Brockman, who was 
roughly treated and narrowly escaped hanging by the mob when the 
murders were first discovered. His account of the family is curious 



436 WESTERN WILDS. 

in the extreme, though many of the details are unfit for publication. 
The Benders, consisting of John Bender, Sr., his son John and daugh- 
ter Kate, and their mother, were from the Franco-German portion of 
Alsace, and spoke both languages fluently, as also the English. They 
had formerly lived in Illinois, but came to Kansas in 1870, and 
boarded some time with Brockman; then made entry on this piece of 
land. They were fanatical spiritualists, and Kate Bender advertised 
as a clairvoyant and healing medium. The young man, her brother, 
who distributed her hand-bills around the country, was generally re- 
garded as a simpleton ; his mother also seemed very dull, and rarely 
spoke. But Kate was the genius of the family. She stated, in her 
moments of "exaltation," that she was a "savior come again, but in 
female form ;" that she could raise the dead, but it would l)e wrong 
to do -so. She had a "familiar spirit" which directed all the move- 
ments of the family ; and several persons visited and consulted her, 
either from curiosity or other motive. Before burial they mutilated 
the victims in an obscene and disgusting manner. So thoroughly was 
this done that when the body of Longcor was raised it was at first 
supposed to be that of a woman. The excised portions of none of the 
bodies were ever found, though the ground was thoroughly searched ; 
and among the few neighbors who knew any thing of the family's blas- 
phemous incantations, there are dark and horrible hints as to the dis- 
position made of these pieces. Should we accept the half that is told 
by the neighbors, we must conclude that this was a family in whom 
every natural impulse had been imbruted ; that they believed them- 
selves in league with powers to whom they oifered infernal sacrifices, 
and murdered for mere lust of blood. It is known that, with one ex- 
ception, the victims had very little money, and that their spoils did 
not altogether exceed ^2,500. One man was known to have had 
but twenty-five cents. 

The escape of the Benders was long a great mystery. That a fam- 
ily of four persons could drive to the nearest railroad station, abandon 
their team there, take the train and escape all the officers and detect- 
ives set upon their track, was incredible. Nevertheless, that was the 
report of the local officials, and the State of Kansas, apparently, made 
great exertions to recapture the fugitives. "Old Man Bender" became 
a standing joke ; every old vagabond in the country was suspected, 
numbers were arrested, and the Utah autliorities actually sent a harmless 
old lunatic, captured in the mountains, back to Kansas for identifica- 
tion. But it was noticed that Kansas officials were rather indifferent 
on the subject, and in due time some of the facts leaked out. There 



KANSAS BE VISITED. 437 

have been sensational stories about the posse overtaking the fugitives 
in the groves west of the Verdigris River, where a desperate fight took 
place, in which both the women were "accidentally killed." Withoiit 
going into particulars, it is safe to say that the Bender family " ceased 
to breathe " soon after their flight, and that their carcasses rotted be- 
neath the soil of the State so scandalized by their crimes. 

A few miles southward bring us to Coffeyville, terminus of the 
Leavenworth, Lawrence & Galveston Railroad, which was to have 
continued on to the gulf, had not the Cherokees objected. By the 
" Treaty of 186G," which settled the present status of these tribes, they 
consented that two railroads might traverse the Indian Territory, and 
Congress enacted that those roads which first reached the border 
should have that right. A race ensued, and the privilege was won by 
the Atlantic & Pacific Road, which enters from the east, and the Mis- 
souri, Kansas & Texas from the north. Coffeyville is the great cattle 
depot of this section. For the five months of cold weather the laws 
of Kansas allow Texas cattle to be driven through the State ; there- 
after they must stop at the border, or be shipped through by rail. 
None are sent either way in midsummer, and thus it results that Cof- 
feyville aud its neighbor, Parker, have one busy season in the spring 
and another in the fall. The rest of the year they are dull, for border 
towns; and, in the language of one of our party, "lie fourteen miles 
outside of the knowledge of God." 

A half-hour's ride from Coffeyville brought us to the border, and 
thence into a rolling plain dotted as far as the eye could see with vast 
herds of cattle — herds numbering from a hundred to ten thousand 
each. It was a grand sight. Some were stretched in long lines, 
feeding in one direction, or grouped in the shape of a crescent ; others 
had collected in a dense mass, their reddish brown coats harmonizing 
finely with the hue of the prairie, and their immense horns looking 
not unlike a thicket of dead underbrush. The cattle men have here 
rented from the Cherokees a strip fifteen miles wide, and collect their 
stock there, waiting for the shipping season. These cattle, having 
run wild upon the plains of western Texas, are collected by a grand 
" round-up ;" from the mass each owner selects those bearing his own 
mark, and thence they set out on the long drive northward througli 
the Indian Territory, along the famous cattle trails. Utterly unac- 
customed to being herded or penned, they are almost as wild as the 
buffalo ; it requires both skill and daring to herd and drive them, and 
the Texan vacquero is necessarily a daring horseman. The same treat- 
ment Avhich breaks the wild spirit of the cattle not unfrequently en- 



438 WESTERN WILDS. 

genders disease; the tramp of from three to eight hundred miles to 
the border causes " heating of the hoof/' and the poisonous matter ex- 
uding therefrom is left upon the grass. Hence, say the Kansians, the 
" Texas cattle fever." The Texan animals themselves do not suffer 
from it ; native cattle alone, who feed after them, are infected by it. 
In the early days the Kansas Legislature set apart the width of one 
township, a strip six miles wide, along which Texans might be driven 
to the Pacific Railroad. But in a little while settlements reached this 
strip, and another Avas located, terminating at Ellsworth, which be- 
came for awhile the great cattle depot. Again the wave of settlement 
reached and overflowed this strip, and a third was located, with depot 
at Wichita, on the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Road. And here is 
noted a marvel indeed. As the border line of settlements steadily moves 
westward, as domestic stock overrun the country, as fields are plowed 
and orchards planted, the settlers say the border line between the soft 
grass of the Missouri Valley and the buffalo grass of the plains, moves 
westward at the rate of five miles per year ! It is common testimony 
there that, as the country is settled, the climate grows more moist; 
that timothy and blue-grass can now be grown where twenty yeai'S 
ago only the hardy bunch-grass found a footing, and wheat on the 
high plains which were once thought utterly barren. From Cherry- 
vale a branch railway runs out to Independence, the bustling capital 
of Montgomery County, which claims three thousand inhabitants, and 
has at least two-thirds as many. Five years before, a mowing ma- 
chine was run over the ground to clear away the rank grass, and after 
it came the surveyors, mapping out the experimental town ; in two 
years thereafter it had a thousand inhabitants, and was " the future 
metropolis of the South-west." , I found it just entering on the dull 
times which have ruined so many bright hopes. The second day of 
my stay the Republicans had a grand mass meeting, " to devise means 
of relief from the prevailing depression and the difficulties under 
which Kansas labored." A foreign visitor Avould have thought him- 
self in a community of natural orators. The speakers were lawyers, 
doctors, farmers, cattle-breeders, men of all trades and men of none ; 
all spoke with ability, and no two suggested the same plan. It was a 
meeting of pleasant diversity — one of the most enjoyable I ever at- 
tended. One speaker was red hot for free trade — " all our troubles 
resulted from our wretched tariff." Another protested against any 
further contraction of the currency, and still another damned the rail- 
roads and Eastern monopolists. The Congressman representing the 
district was present, and suggested two measures of relief: jetties at 



KANSAS BE VISITED. 439 

the mouth of the Mississippi, so that grain could be shipped that way 
direct to Europe, and opening the Indian Territory so the railroad 
could continue on to the gulf and afford an outlet. [Loud and pro- 
longed cheers.] Several were emphatic that we should have " more 
greenbacks ;" for, said one speaker, " we have millions of corn and 
no hogs to feed it to — we need more money to buy stock!" 

This region is part of the Osage Diminished Reserve, so-called ; and 
the unreasonable savages persisted in holding on to it long after the 
white man wanted it. Unlike all other Kansas Indians the Osages are 
indigenous, from the Osage River in Missouri to the Arkansas: this 
is their original seat, and they stubbornly resisted all offers of sale. 
As soon as it was known that Government was pressing them to sell, 
the whites poured in, and in four years had taken all the good land in 
Montgomery County, before the Indian title was extinguished. This 
cut out the railroad companies, and gave rise to no end of quarrels 
and lawsuits. The Osages persist in all their aboriginal habits. The 
example of their civilized kinsmen in Oklahoma, the teaching of 
Catholic priests at the mission long before the whites settled here, 
the persuasions of agents and the gifts of the Government were alike 
unavailing. Now and then a chief wanders through the settlements, 
half-clad in the grotesque finery received as annuity goods, and with 
a medal on his breast to show that he has signed a treaty or done 
some other service to the Government, and perhaps a dirty scrap of 
paper to back up his assertion that he is " Good Osage — heap good 
Injun." His errand generally is for old clothes and "cold grub;" 
and if a little whisky be added, the donor can have a war dance im- 
provised for his special benefit. Occasionally a begging Indian re- 
ceives a " certificate " from some wag, which is not so favorable. One 
such, which the bearer proudly presented me, ran thus: 

" To whom it may concern : 

" The name of this noble red man is Hunkydori. He is of poor but pious parents. 
AVhat he would n't steal a hound pup would n't pull out of a tan-yard. Red-hot stoves are 
supposed to be safe in his presence. Give him some cold grub, or a three cent drink, if 
3'ou have any about you. * 

"Rev. Robert Collyer. 
" Gen. O. O. Howard." 

From Independence I took horse northward, across the sluggish 
Elk River, and into Wilson County. This stream looks sluggish 
enough now, but it often gets up in a destructive fashion. Already 
eleven persons have been drowned in this vicinity. A few rods be- 
low the ford is a deep pool, visible enough noAV when the water on the 



440 



WESTERN WILDS. 



ripple is but two inches deep; but the -winter before two lovers met 
their death here. They were to have been married in a week, and 

_ ^ were on a visit to 

"'"^' friends when a 
heavy rain came 
on. Hurrying to 
return before the 
stream should 
rise, they unfort- 
unately went too 
far down stream ; 
the buggy was 
swept into the 
pool, and a little 
below overturned 
in the floating 
brush. The 
drowned lovers 
were found next 
day, tMO miles 
below, clasped in 
each other's arms. 
Neodesha, cap- 
i t a 1 of Wilson 
County, w a s 
named by a com- 
mittee of local 
philologists, ap- 
pointed by the 
first settlers. The 
latter resolved : 
first, they M'ould 
have an express- 
ive Indian name ; 
second, they 
would have a 
name which no 

city, man, or country had ever been called by. Thus limited, the 
committee took the Osage words (pro. Ne-o-de-s/my) meaning, "meet- 
ing of the waters," as the town was upon the point between the 
Fall and Verdigris rivers. Wilson is another cattle county. The 




"GOOD OSAGE— HEAP GOOD INJUN !" 



KANSAS BE VISITED. 441 

fields are fenced in, the stock fenced out; and the aristocracy of Ne- 
odesha are the cattle men. Near here a Mrs. Vickars and her 
daughters had produced a fair crop of cotton from a small patch ; had 
carded and spun it with their own hands, and were knitting it into va- 
rious articles. It is safe to say the Vickars family will get through 
the "hard times" without suifering. 

AVestward from Neodesha I found the country rising more and 
more into ridges. The first creek I crossed by a deep ford, though an 
elegant bridge stood not far above, the way to it being fenced up. It 
appears that Neodesha had erected this bridge at considerable expense, 
only to find that the road in common use ran a few rods north of the 
section line. The mulish owner of the land fenced it in, and obsti- 
nately refused the right of way, or to sell at any reasonable price ; 
and so Neodesha had an elegant bridge which she could not use. 
Continuing my journey south and west, I saw that I was drawing near 
the great "divide" between the waters flowing into the Neosho and 
those flowing into the Arkansas. Nearly half the country consists of 
sharp ridges, on \vhich the land is generally fit only for pasturage. 
The narrow valleys between are very fertile, but as a rule every 
quarter section of land takes in some ridge ; hence the settler's farm 
runs into the ridges on at least two corners. By and by I come upon 
two old acquaintances — prickly cactus and desert weed — sure indica- 
tions that I am nearing a barren strip. Elk River has a wider 
valley ; the land is again fertile, and the heavy fields of corn show 
good cultivation. AYestward I rise again to flinty hills, and am soon 
upon The Ridge, so-called, the highest point between the two rivers. 
Overlooking a section twenty miles square, I see that about one-third 
of it is taken up by these ridges of rock and gravel, while the inter- 
mediate vales are of great fertility. The hollows breaking out of the 
ridge each way are thick set with dense scrubby timber, in which wild 
cats, deer, and other game are still abundant. 

Down the western slope brings me to the fertile valley of Grouse 
Creek, and in due time to the village of Lazette, where I find the 
citizens in impromptu convention in the public square. Matching the 
process of boring for cold water. Through all this section the wells 
are from forty to a hundred feet deep, bored and piped; and the water 
is drawn in a metal bucket, half a yard long and some three inches 
wide, resembling a section of a tin spout. A valve in the bottom 
opens inward, and allows the vessel to fill ; then closes when the draw- 
ing up begins. The fluid is so saturated with lime that it fairly rises 
up and takes a man by the throat. It is such "hard water" that one 



442 WESTERN WILDS. 

can scarcely bite it off. Washer-women have great tribulations in 
such a country. 

As I near the Arkansas, I find the flint ridges narrowing, the vales 
between them widening, and see from afar a green strip of level land, 
resembling the prairies of Southern Illinois. But a vast amount of 
this land is already in the hands of speculators. Uncle Sam has 
done his best to prevent his boys from swindling themselves out of 
their patrimony, but they will do it. All the old tricks are here re- 
peated on a grander scale, and some new ones added. Loose-footed 
young men erect a cabin, barely habitable in good weather, preempt 
and remain till they get a title, then sell to a speculator and leave; 
and these abandoned " dwellings " are seen dotting the vacant prairie 
in all directions. By this operation the preemptor has a pleasant time 
of it for a year, raises a small crop of " sod corn," and gets away with, 
perhaps, two hundred dollars. But I rejoice in the thought that the 
speculator will be fooled at last ; the land's increase in value will be 
less than his money would have brought at interest, and the residents 
will make him " smoke " with high taxes on his land. 

At the new " city " of Winfield, situated in the Arkansas Valley, 
at the center of a rich agricultural region, I passed a few days of 
pleasant rest. It is a cosmopolitan town. There were buffalo hunters 
just returned from Harper and Comanche counties, cattle men from 
Texas, Indian traders, and returned emigrants from the abandoned 
settlements on Medicine Lodge Creek. These j)eople, trusting to the 
confident assertions of old citizens, that " there is no desert in Kan- 
sas, no land too dry for cultivation," had opened extensive farms on 
Medicine Lodge, a little tributary of the Arkansas. Every thing they 
planted grew luxuriantly till the middle of June, then began to wither. 
They dammed the creek for irrigation, but that went dry, too. " Just 
appeared as if the bottom dropped out," said one of the settlers — 
" channel as dry as a bone by the first of July." As yet it would ap- 
pear that the south-western quarter of Kansas is a little too dry and 
barren for the farmer. 

Winfield is on White Walnut Creek, a few miles above its junction 
with the Arkansas; but the level, fertile valley is here continuous be- 
tween the streams. Two years before buffalo could be found in the 
vicinity of town ; now the nearest were fifty miles west of the river, in 
Harper County. This, and Barbour, Comanche and Clark counties 
are broken in all directions by deep gullies and wooded canons, the 
favorite wintering places of the bison ; as long as they could winter 
there undisturbed, summer found them abundant on the high plains 



KANSAS REVISITED. 443 

along the Arkansas, Smoky Hill, and Republican. But when, forced 
from these sheltered valleys by the winter hunters, the animals tried 
to pass the cold season on the open plains northward, they froze and 
starved by millions. The bufi'alo range is now only one-twelfth what 
it was in 1830, and about one-third what it was in 1870. 

Mr. William Payne, a returned surveyor, gave me a most interesting 
account of that part of Kansas south and west of the Arkansas. Un- 
less the climate changes materially, this section must long remain un- 
settled ; in any event it can not sustain a dense population. It is 
high, dry, fearfully cut up by flint ridges, and gored by rock-w'alled 
canons. Northward, it is more gently rolling, and along the Arkansas 
there is good farming land even to the border of Colorado. In com- 
pany with Mr. Payne, I journeyed leisurely up Walnut Creek, finding 
the fertile valley well settled and cultivated. To the right, the land 
rose into ridges and swells, where dwellings were rare indeed ; this 
was herding ground in common for the men of the valley. A furrow, 
run through the prairie sod, constituted a "lawful fence;" and the 
herds were kept off the growing crops by boys and women. Here and 
there was to be seen a horse hitched at the gate, with neat side-saddle 
tightly strapped ; and, when the feeding cattle drew near the corn, a 
tall and graceful Kansas girl would bounce into the saddle, and go 
galloping up the slope, cracking a little whip, and calling out to the 
stock in musical English. We voted it a pretty sight, and rode on. 

At Eldorado, in Butler County, we took another rest, in a region 
"vvhere the Kansas winds appear to have done their perfect work on 
the old settlers. The statement that an old resident " can't talk if the 
w'ind stops blowing," is repelled as a slander ; but the wind, or some- 
thing else, is certainly making rapid changes in the general appearance 
of the people. They are of florid complexion, leathery aspect, and 
" clipper built " as to limbs. And this sets me to wondering whether 
the future American, when our country is all settled, and these rapid 
changes of population cease, will not fall into permanent types, on the 
principle of " natural selection and survival of the fittest." There 
will, perhaps, be the Yankee type : the people north and east of Penn- 
sylvania, with clear but ruddy skin, rather lean in figure, somewhat 
severe in aspect, given to grim and sepulchral humor, and with that 
traditional " blue stripe on the belly." Westward and southward this 
race will yield gradually to the blue, bilious type, whose central spot 
will be Cairo, Illinois. They will tend to the pale olive in complex- 
ion ; Avill be somewhat languid in their loves and hates till excited, 
and then fiercely but spasmodically passionate ; they will be darker 



444 WESTERN WILDS. 

than their Eastern congeners, and given to stimulating decoctions. 
West of thcni will come in the bold florid type, with complexion of a 
rich mahogany, with wiry frame, outline a little too extended, and 
eyes and hair of the intense hues. This type will come to perfection 
in Kansas. North of them will be the Western Yankees, with less 
strictness than their Eastern ancestors, but more acquisitiveness. A 
little way southward will begin the typical Southerner, with charac- 
teristics steadily exaggerated as we near the gulf. But in that section 
will be three r^ces : pure whites, pure blacks, and the " colored." 
Miscegenation will pretty nearly cease when the late slaves get used to 
freedom, and the betwixt-and-between colors of the South will settle 
into a permanent type, without merging on either side into the pure 
colors. Why not? That happened in Mexico, after two centuries of 
miscegenation, and the same causes will doubtless produce the same 
effects here. In the Far West we shall have the mountaineer, of a 
type totally different from all the others. Any man can see, w^ith half 
an eye, that nothing but extensive emigration, and the social mixtures 
resulting therefrom, prevent climatic laws from separating us into dif- 
ferent races. By and by emigration must cease, and nature work her 
will upon us. What then? How can all these diverse races be held 
together, under one democratic republican government? Ah! that's 
the conundruni some future generation must solve. 

At Eldorado we leave the valley and journey over the high and 
unsettled prairies to Florence, in Marion County. The route takes 
me again over the "divide" between the Neosho and Arkansas; but 
here it is only a high plain without any very barren ridges as far- 
ther south. The high land is comparatively unsettled, and only the 
lower valleys have many cultivated farms. It is evident we are on 
the border, and pretty near the dry plains ; though the settlers, espe- 
cially the many real estate agents in the few towns, insist that " there 
is no such thing as the American Desert — it's a myth — every section 
of land in Kansas can be cultivated." Though there are a thousand of 
them, and but one of me, I venture to differ a very little. At Flor- 
ence I take the eastward train, and am soon down among the old 
farms on the rich plains of the Kaw. But before I close my last 
sketch of Kansas, a few general notes are in order : 

The State is an immense parallelogram, about twice as long as wnde, 
containing 81,318 square miles: ten times the size of Massachusetts, 
one-fifth larger than Missouri, a little more than twice the size of 
Ohio, not quite three times as big as Indiana, and exceeding by one- 
third the area of England. I divide it into three sections: the east- 



KANSAS REVISITED. 445 

ern third is as fertile as any equal area in the world ; the western 
third has not yet been jirovcd to be of much value except for grazing ; 
the middle third consists of both grazing and agricultural land, the 
latter predominating. Thus w-e have 25,000 square miles of first-class 
farming land, as much of mixed grazing and farming lands, and a 
little more of the region fit for pasturage only. The eastern border 
of the State has an average elevation of some 800 feet above the sea ; 
the western from 2,500 to 3,000 feet. The eastern third— 25,000 square 
miles or thereabouts — when settled as thickly as rural Ohio, will sus- 
tain a population of two millions; at present it contains not quite 
half a million, "and there's room for miljions more." 

Of land subject to preemption and homestead there is very little. 
Nearly all the land of value belongs to the railroads or private owners. 
Some people of my acquaintance, who talk very glibly of the immense 
public domain, w^ould be amazed to learn how little good land is still 
at the disposal of government. Deducting diminished Indian reserves, 
railroad grants, and lands long ago preempted and sold to speculators, 
there is not much left this side of the barren plateaus. But the rail- 
road lands in Kansas can now be bought at from §4 to $10 per acre, 
and are generally located in old counties where church, school and 
society have made great progress. The railroads, as a rule, sell on 
seven years' time, with interest at seven per cent, on deferred payments. 

All the fruits and grains of the temperate zone can be produced 
in Kansas, and for some things it seems specially suited. In small 
fruits, especially grapes, no State east of California can excel Kansas. 
Wheat has not yet proved a perfect success in southern Kansas, 
because, as I think, the farmers have not experimented sufficiently. 
They still sow the same varieties, on the same system, as in Ohio. 
In oats the product is amazing. Mr. A. Hall, whose farm is at the 
junction of Deer Creek and Neosho River, in 1870 harvested seventy 
bushels per acre from a large area ; and J. C. Clark, on the upland, 
near lola, took four thousand bushels from sixty-five acres. Of 
ground crops all kinds grown in Ohio flourish exceedingly on this 
virgin soil, potatoes and turnips especially. Vines of all kinds do 
well; all sorts of melons attain a size and perfection of flavor unsur- 
passed in this latitude. Peaches are a sure crop at least three years 
out of four. Apples, for a new country, are about average. But the 
most money is made on cattle and sheep. The country is generally 
well watered; there is still abundant range on the open prairie, and 
enough of sheltered and wooded hollows. And in this respect the 
settlers west of the Verdigris think they have a great advantage, as 



446 WESTERN WILDS. 

the ridges will not be settled and fenced in for a century ; they will 
remain common herding ground for many years. 

West of the Arkansas, and in the north-west part of the State, the 
hunter and herdsman will have free range for generations. Part of 
the country is completely barren, but most of it produces the nutri- 
tious bunch-grass, gama-grass, and buffalo-grass. The topography is 
the result of the two geologic processes — erosion and drift. The first 
great upheaval evidently created mountain heights twice or three times 
as high as any now on the globe. These have worn down to the 
present Rocky Mountains ; and from that wearing came the material 
constituting the "plains." Near the center of Eastern Colorado a 
great spur of the mountains puts out eastward, known as the " Divide," 
and continues, gradually lessening in height, far down into Kansas. 
This, and all the adjoining slopes, are composed of rounded stones, 
pebbles, and sand, the washings of ages ; and over and among them 
there is just soil enough to produce hardy grass, but not enough for 
good farming land, unless upon the lower slopes and valleys. 

Kansas is not paradise ; but it presents many advantages. There is 
no section of the West where — 

" Grain and flour and fruit 

Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er." 

But there is abundant room in this State for half a million families, 
in localities where one has room to grow, where the laws are pecu- 
liarly favorable to beginners, where society is well organized, where 
labor will surely result in a competence, and all who will be virtuous 
may be happy. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

COLORADO. 

The summer of 1874 found me once more engaged in mining oper- 
ations on a small scale — this time in Colorado. The first of June I 
set out hastily from Saint Louis for the mountains, anticipating great 
enjoyment in the journey across the plains. But the change in two 
years had been wonderful; where we saw buffalo in May, 1872, by 
uncounted thousands, we now looked in vain. Save the grizzled and 
miserable looking captives in the station corrals, and rarely a worn out 
old fellow in some hollow, not a buffalo is now^ be seen on the Kan- 
sas Pacific, where only seven years ago they actually obstructed the 
track in places. 

Within the memory of men still living these animals ranged as far 
east as the Osage in Missouri; once they inhabited nearly all that part 
of our country east of the Great Basin. Gov. Thomas L. Young, of 
Ohio, relates that when his party crossed the plains in 1854, they saw 
a herd in the Platte Valley fourteen miles long and two or three miles 
wide; and Horace Greeley vouches for herds almost as extensive, 
which, he says, could only be estimated by millions. Such immense 
aggregations are only to be accounted for by the tendency of these 
animals to mass together while crossing streams in their migration. 
At the old Platte crossing emigrants were often hindered for days by 
the buffalo moving northward. As late as 1865 their range was three 
hundred miles wide, and from the Saskatchewan to the Rio Grande. 
Now they are limited to two small sections: the first includes north- 
western and western Texas and Indian Territory, with adjacent por- 
tions of Kansas, New Mexico and Colorado; the latter a small section 
of western Dakota and the adjacent region. At present rates only 
twenty more years are needed for their extermination. Millions have 
been slaughtered for their hides and tongues alone; millions more in 
cruel wantonness, miscalled " sport." Other millions died in the severe 
winter of 1871-'72, their range in the sheltered valleys being re- 
stricted; and a year after long trains of box-cars were loaded with 
their bones, which the poverty-stricken Kansians gathered and 
shipped eastward. So disappears the noblest of our wild game. 

•44.T\ 



448 WESTERN WILDS. 

The tourist who would see a buffalo in his natural state must not 
long delay. 

Denver had wonderfully improved within two years; but the 
chronic "hard times" had visited it with fearful severity. There had 
been a decline in real estate of at least forty per cent., and not long 
after a still further decline occurred. The excursionists from the East 
were sixty per cent, less numerous than in 1873. Watering places lan- 
guished and hotel-keepers looked sick. But if there is trade in Col- 
orado, Denver must take toll therefrom: for it has the location. 
Take half a wagon-wheel ; imagine each of the spokes a pass, leadings 
uj) south-west or north-west, through the mountains to some mining 
region, and you will have a tolerable idea of Denver and its tribu- 
taries. From this place as a center, railroads or first-class turnpikes 
lead up to Georgetown, Central City, Blackhawk, Boulder, Lcadville, 
and a dozen mountain towns of less note. 

The city is on the slope at the junction of Cherry Creek and the 
Platte River. Both are mere rivulets usually, but they occasionally 
get up in a way that's rather frightful. In 1864 a freshet took away 
nearly all the town as it then stood, and the people afterwards built 
a little farther up the slope. The city was on first view an agreeable 
surprise to me. I had heard so often and so long, in Salt Lake City, 
that that was the only really beautiful town in the mountains — that it 
had become a part of my creed, as a man will sometimes absorb with- 
out question what he hears reiterated for years. But many people 
would prefer Denver, on the score of beauty alone. The advantage 
of Salt Lake City is that it is twice as old, and its shade trees and 
shrubbery have had more time to grow. But in Denver we find 
bright irrigating streams, fine gardens, shade trees, grass plats and 
many elegant residences. In the last respect this far exceeds Salt 
Lake. But the noticeable point of difference is in churches, school- 
houses and daily papers. In the two former Denver will compare 
favorably Avith any Eastern city of its size, and in the last exceed 
most of them. A hundred little matters illustrate, in a marked de- 
gree, the difference between this progressive, homogeneous people and 
that of the Mormon capital. At the Post-office, of an evening, one 
finds almost the population of an average Western city, and has to 
take his turn after long waiting. At Salt Lake I never saw a crowd 
at the delivery large enough to be troublesome. This office gives 
out three times as much mail as that at Salt Lake. Here are a people 
who read and write, think and question, deliberate, examine and come 
to a conclusion: there a people who open their mouths and swal- 



COLORADO. 



449 




AFFLUENT OP" CLEAR CREEK. 



low what the shep- 
herd gives them; 
obey their bishop 
like good c h i 1 - 
dren ; believe the 
whole outside 
world to be 
doomed, and, 
therefore un- 
worthy of corre- 
spondence except 
on indispensables. 
After a pleasant 
week in Denver 
we (I had taken 
a better half 
w h i 1 e in the 
States) departed 
for Georgetown 
by way of the 
Colorado Central 
and Narrow- 
Guage. The for- 
mer runs only to 
Golden City, at 
the foot of thf, 
mountains, where 
we transfer to the 
Narrow-Guage. 
There Clear 
Creek, which has 
been a foaming 
mountain torrent 
through all its 
upper course, 
emerges from the 
mountains and 
supplies irrigation 
to a fertile valley 
fifteen miles long. 
From this on our 



29 



450 WESTERN WILDS. 

course is up a steep grade and through the domain of the sublime and 
beautiful. The narrow train dashes from side to side of the rocky 
canon, now rushing along at fifteen miles an hour when there is a 
short stretch of easy grade, and again toiling slowly up and over the 
rocks; one minute we are under an overhanging bluff a thousand feet 
in height, and the next out in an open valley whore the widening 
canon gives us a broad view of green plats, timbered hills and the 
deep blue sky beyond. At every pause we hear the continuous roar, 
a soothing monotone, of Clear Creek dashing down its rocky channel, 
a limpid stream when unobstructed, but churned to milk-white foam 
Avherc bowlders choke its bed; now to our right, now to our left, and 
again directly under us, as the train repeatedly crosses it to gain ele- 
vation At times the cliffs so crowd upon the stream that a way for the 
iron track has been blasted out of the stone wall; and again the road- 
Avay is upon immense table rocks in the very bed of the stream. 
It was a triumph of engineering. The route was only practicable 
for a narrow-guage road, on which short curves and abrupt rises pre- 
sent no great obstacle to the little engine and narrow cars. All 
the slopes are covered with dark green forests, and even the over-^ 
hanging cliffs fringed with delicate pines, softening the outlines, 
adding fresh charms, and preventing that gloomy grandeur which 
so marks the mountain scenery of Arizona. Here and there the 
solid wall lining the cailon seemed split to its very base, and out of 
the narrow cleft flowed an affluent of Clear Creek, its waters clear as 
alcohol. 

The main line of this road runs up North Clear Creek to Black- 
hawk and Central City; the left branch is to run to Georgetown, but 
now terminates at Floyd Hill, leaving us eighteen miles of staging to 
reach the metropolis of the richest silver district in the new State. 

Most of this stage is through a broader canon, the timbered hills ris- 
ing three thousand feet on both sides. Towards the last we enter a 
narrow gorge, then suddenly the canon widens again, and Clear 
Creek is seen flowing placidly down the center of a tolerably level 
tract, some two miles long and from a quarter to half a mile wide. 
At the upper end of this plat, on the last considerable piece of level 
land this side of the mountains, stands Georgetown — an attractive Al- 
pine hamlet, 8,410 feet above the level of the sea. Tourists by the 
Pacific Railway think themselves away up when at Sherman, but here 
is a prosperous community of three thousand people, and a handsome 
town, a hundred feet higher than Sherman. Here the creek and 
cafion run nearly north. Southward, the town ends abruptly against 



COLORADO. 451 

Leavenworth Mountain, which rises twelve hundred feet above the 
Barton House — set on a rocky offset at its foot. But the visible 
peak is only the end and lowest point of Leavenworth, a spur from 
the Rocky Mountains, which are here known as " the Range." 

The fairer section of our party are startled at the crowds of men in the 
streets, not a woman being visible ; for this is Saturday evening, when 
fifteen hundred men from the hills get their mail here, besides the res- 
ident population ; while the whole district probably does not contain 
three hundred females. After a week's rest at the Barton House, we 
take for the season a roomy cabin in a little pine grove, at the foot of 
Griffith Mountain, where we dwell in all comfort! and coolness for three 
months. The first sensation of visitors from the low country is a 
slight languor, and a wonderful tendency to sleep. The nights are so 
cool and the air so light. For a fortnight we sleep ten hours every 
night, and can scarcely get through the day without a nap. But if we 
rashly attempt to run up-stairs, or even hurry on level ground, the la- 
boring lungs swell the chest, and the heart pounds away on the ribs as 
if it would give loud warning to " go slow." But the thin air is also in- 
vigorating ; the cold nights and sharp morning air are wonderful ap- 
petizers; while the days are rarely too warm for comfort, and in no 
long time one feels his vigor redoubled, and fairly rejoices in high 
climbs. 

When it is said that the Rocky Mountains have an average eleva- 
tion of 12,000 feet above the sea, the Eastern imagination is apt to 
picture them as rising abruptly two miles or more above the plains ; 
but in fact nearly half this elevation is gained by the traveler before 
he reaches the mountains. All the way from Kansas City, 800 feet 
above the sea, to Denver, 5,600 feet high, and still twenty miles from 
the mountains, one constantly travels up-hill ; and at the station on the 
Kansas Pacific, where one gets his first dim and distant view of Pike's 
Peak, he is higher than the summit of any mountain in Pennsylvania. 
Colorado contains no land less than 3,000 feet high. Denver is one 
mile above New York, and the prosperous cities of Georgetown and 
Central City 3,000 feet higher still. Manifestly all the conditions of 
animal and vegetable life are changed, and time only is needed to pro- 
duce in this Alpine State a new and peculiar variety of the genus 
American. The miner lives at an average elevation of 3,000 feet 
above the agriculturist, but in most of the large canons wheeled 
carriages can be driven 2,000 feet higher : over grassy meads and 
through dense pine forests, beside brawling brooks, and again out 
upon bare rocky flats, to the foot of the summit ridge, which rises, 



452 WESTERN WILDS. 

abrupt and rocky, 2,000 feet above the timber line. In summer one 
may go the foot of Gray's Peak with less inconvenience than to any of 
the secluded mountain towns of Pennsylvania. But it is the last 
2,000 feet that cost. 

Let us map out the district about Georgetown, beginning at the 
quartz mill, a mile below the city. First to our right, and west- 
ward, is the lowest of the mining localities, Douglas Mountain. 
Farther along, and rising just to the west of the lower part of George- 
town, is Democrat Mountain, nearly bald on the summit, not because 
it is above the timber line, but because of an immense slide some cent- 
uries ago. Silver Creek Gulch, a slight depression, separates it from 
Republican Mountain. Several hundred feet higher than Democrat, 
and crowned with heavy timber to its summit, this latter rears an 
awful front two thousand feet above the center of town. The bald 
front seems nearly perpendicular, and has projections the size of the 
largest church in New York, and perpendicular faces here and there 
a hundred feet square -a sight of unwearying sublimity. Seen from 
directly in front, that is, anywhere in town, it would seem that no 
living thing but a bird could go up or down that face; and yet there is 
a winding trail along the rocky offsets by which a few daring men de- 
scend rather than make a long circuit; and on the Fourth of July, 
1875, a French miner ascended to the summit, planted a flag, and re- 
turned to the hotel in one hour and forty-eight minutes. This he did 
on a bet of ten dollars that he could do it in two hours. It's a pity 
for him, perhaps, that he could only raise ten dollars, for he could 
have had takers to any amount. On the summit is a flag three feet 
long which can only be seen from town by a good eye, and then looks 
about the size of a pocket-handkerchief. A little beyond, the face of 
the mountain bends toward the south-west, and continues two miles 
further, to Cherokee Gulch. Beyond comes Sherman Mountain. At 
their junction is the great mining center, from which I know not how 
many millions in silver ore have been taken. Sherman runs on 
nearly a mile further to BroAvn Gulch, beyond which is Brown 
Mountain, the last in that direction which has any relation to this 
district. All of these gulches are very shallow, and do not really di- 
vide the mountain ; the formation of veins is continuous across most 
of them, and some of the richest lodes extend across the deepest gulcii. 

On the left, or east side of the canon, all the range is known as 
Griffith Mountain, while from the south licavenworth abuts sharply 
on the town. West of it is Right-hand Gulch, down which comes a 
good sized stream by way of Devil's Gate and half a dozen more beau- 



COLORADO. 453 

tiful cascades; to the east is Left-hand Gulch, a rocky trough with 
great fall, in which the stream is a constant succession of cascades and 
rapids, all the way up to its origin in the snow-banks on the Range. 
Only two hundred yards above the Barton House a square reservoir 
was blasted out of the rocky bottom, and in that short distance fall 
enough for the water-works is secured to throw water over the spire 
of the Union School building — the highest in town. This stream is 
cold as spring-water all summer, and quite as pure and healthful. 
Just across town, on the face of Hepublican Mountain, is a beautiful 
fall of thirty feet or so, and all around tiny streams pour down 
from ice-cold springs or snow-banks near the summit — a natural water 
system not to be surpassed. The two main streams unite in the 
center of town to form Clear Creek ; above the mills it is crystal clear 
and sweet to the taste, below them it is now foul with " tailings" and 
the Mash of poisonous ores, and contains no fish, though once lively 
with them. 

Our party celebrated the Fourth of July, 1874, on the dividing 
ridge of the Rocky Mountains, at least 13,000 feet above the level of 
the sea. There we loosed the American eagle, and with polysyllabic 
speech and patriotic songs moved him to soar and scream. We 
straddled the backbone of America, sat down on the rirlge pole of the 
continental water-shed, ate sardines from California and crackers from 
Boston, and drank from two ice-cold rivulets which flowed from the 
same snow-bank, the one to the Atlantic and the other to the Pacific. 
The occasion was inspiring. Of course we did and said all those pa- 
triotic things which are customary on such occasions ; the speeches 
being the result of a geometrical progression beyond ordinary patri- 
otic remarks in proportion to our elevation, and proving us the great- 
est, freest, wisest people in the world. Whether the British lion 
howled and the effete despotisms trembled, is not known; but it is to 
be presumed they did. The real enjoyment was in the trip to the 
summit, whereof a few notes are now in order, beginning with our 
departure from the rancheria of Charley Utter, scout, guide, and 
equine purveyor. 

A summer morning in Georgeto^vn combines the perfect in climate 
and scenery. At 8 A. M., the sun is still behind Griffith Mountain, 
and the city in a shaded amphitheater walled in by cool mountains. 
But this promises to be one of the few warm days ; and, as we tighten 
straps upon the mountain bronchos, selected for their skill in going 
up high and narrow ways, the pack-trains are toiling wearily, by care- 
fully devised and winding dugways, up the neighboring cliffs. Over 



454 WESTERN WILDS. 

tlie north end of Leavenworth, on rocky ways, with an incline some- 
times of fifty degrees, our bronchos carried us with ease and safety ; for 
one of these native horses could easily go up and down any stairs in 
Cincinnati. Reaching the main road again, above the reservoir, we 
followed a gentle up-grade for three miles to the first climb. There 
the stream plunges down a series of cascades, while the road winds in 
and out on the face of the cliff, to reduce the nearly perpendicular wall 
to a series of passable inclines : at times the frowning granite threat- 
ening to close in and cut us off; at times the foaming stream sinking 
clear out of sight in the gorge itself had fashioned, its presence only 
proved by the roar and spray that issued from the granite jaws ; and 
again road and stream came together, and our panting animals cooled 
themselves in fording the torrent. At this level we enter on the 
heavy forests of mountain pine. On all the trees the limbs slope 
downward from the trunk, the result of heavy winter snows. New 
beauties appeared" at every step. Cold springs bubbled up near the 
road, and the streams therefrom often formed little ponds Avhich were 
lined with lilies. Other flowers, too, became more numerous; and, in 
the timber, the dark greec pines, spruces, firs, and hemlocks grew 
dense and formed a heavy shade. Occasionally we passed a winter 
camp of miners, where the stumps standing ten or twelve feet high 
suggested the work of Anakim ; but it seems they were cut off level 
with the surface when the snow was at its deepest. 

Another climb of a thousand feet brought us to the region of 
mountain flowers. There were myriads, of all colors — white, red, and 
yellow predominating, all of the brightest hues. Singularly enough, 
all the open spaces were densely matted with buffalo grass, of the same 
species as that on the plains, which our horses ate with avidity. As 
we progressed, new species of flowers continually appeared, all small, 
and growing smaller every mile. Another climb of some five hundred 
feet, and there was a sudden change in the timber. The tall, graceful 
pines disappeared, and in their stead came a scraggy, scrubby growth, 
with a tendency to "crawl" along the ground, or bunch together. It 
was evident we were nearing the timber line. It is not cold, as many 
suppose, which causes this "crawling" (thus the mountaineers, scien- 
tists call it " procumbence ") ; for the timber line is reached at about 
the same altitude in the tropics, and on latitude 50°. It is the want of 
oxygen in the air, by reason of which the scant growth can not attain 
any height, but leans and grows along the ground. A few more steps, 
and we were out of timber entirely, 11,000 feet high, and still the sum- 
mit stood out clear and distinct, 2,000 feet above us. We were now 



COLORADO. 455 

almost on level ground, a sort of plateau bordering the highest peaks ; 
and, but for the view to the eastward over the timber, might have 
fancied ourselves on the plains at the foot of a sharp, rocky range. 
We were in the midst of mountain meadows, every little slope being 
rich and green with grass and willow brush ; but in every gorge, both 
above and below us, were the hard accumulations of snow and ice, 
yielding only scant rivulets to the fervent glances of the sun. And 
yet all around these snow banks were bright borders of flowers of the 
same varieties we had seen below, but so tiny that they resembled 
colored grass rather than flowers. 

On this plain stood the ruins of Argentine City, which, ten years be- 
f )re, boasted a thousand inhabitants. With the first discovery of silver 
en the summit, it seemed to be in such immense lodes that its richness 
was considered inexhaustible, and a city sprung up like magic at the 
edge of the timber line. But, when they got their lodes developed, 
they found that though rich in lead they run only sixty to a hundred 
ounces in silver to the ton, while no man could do more than half a 
day's work in that rarified air; the same wages being required, and 
provisions even more expensive, and so all the mines there were aban- 
doned as unprofitable. Still Argentine stands untenanted, and mill- 
ions of pounds of lead and silver ore wait for owners. It was a 
strange and romantic scene : the abandoned town in the midst of a 
green meadow; banks of flowers all around, dotting the sloping plain 
in red, blue, and yellow ; right among them heavy snow drifts, fifty 
feet deep in the gulches, from which ran tiny rivulets to water the 
grass and flowers; rising before us the last and highest range, seamed 
and scarred in every direction, and shining over all the hot sun of 
July. To stand in the sunshine one might think it no cooler than in 
Georgetown ; but sitting in the shade it soon appears that the heat is 
all in the direct rays of the sun ; the air is really cool. While the 
ridge was too abrupt to be scaled in front, a gentle slope led away to 
the north-east, covered with buffalo grass nearly to the summit. Up 
this we toiled for an hour, reaching the highest point at 11 A. M., and 
finding there some ten acres of tolerably level land, and another won- 
der. While the whole mountain is granite, the surface is covered Avith 
sandstone rocks, which show marks of long abrasion. This is a com- 
plete contradiction ; geologically these stones do not belong there. 
Local geologists have decided that they were brought from the far 
North and dropped there by an iceberg, toward the close of the glacial 
period. 

Toward the south-west the Pacific slope begins in an abrupt fall of 



456 WESTERN WILDS. 

fifteen hundred feet from the summit, no descent at tliat point being 
possible; but the grandest scene is to the north-west. Sloping down 
at an angle of eighty degrees, but still })assable to men and mountain 
sheep, a cliil" sinks twenty-five hundred feet to a beautiful valley. 
Across this, and seemingly not more than half a mile away, is Torrey's 
Peak ; a little to the left of it, separated by a complete ice-gorge, is 
Gray's Peak, so near that it seems one might fire a pistol ball across 
the chasm. It is at least five miles in a direct line from where we 
stand. Between us the green valley is dotted with snow banks, and 
the little streams running from them now appear ice-locked. But ex- 
amination through a field-glass shows that what looks like ice is really 
white foam ; the rivulets are strong streams, fed all summer by the 
melting snows from the gorge between the great peaks. For an hour 
we amused ourselves by loosening the movable bowlders and prying 
them over the cliff. If they escapetl the first obstruction, they ac- 
quired a velocity that sent them bounding over the rocky points below, 
then rushed with speed, that almost made the head swim, down the 
granite troughs, jumping fifty or a hundred feet at a time, till, carried 
by a rebound clear out of their course, they struck on some flinty peak 
near the bottom and were ground to powder, the dust flying in the air 
like the spray dashed up when a cannon-ball glances on the water. 
Two years before a granite bowlder, loosened by a blast, from the 
mountain east of Georgetown, estimated at two tons' weight, came down 
the two thousand feet, and struck on one end of a blacksmith shop, 
while the owner was, luckily, a few rods away. Every plank and 
timber was ground to splinters; and, it is perhaps needless to add, that 
smith rebuilt a little farther out in the valley. 

Two months later we visited Gray's Peak, and if we had consulted 
all the almanacs from "Zadkiel" to " Danbury," we could not have 
chosen a worse time. December would have been better, as we should 
then have had cold weather all the way, and suffered no sharp con- 
trasts. As it was, the array of red eyes and peeled noses was dis- 
couraging. Our party of ten included three correspondents, four 
ladies, a college professor, and two indefinitely classed as young men. 
It is agreed by all old settlers, that no one can decide on the weather 
up there two hours ahead, unless it has just cleared up with a cold 
wind ; then it will probably be clear for a day or two. Therefi)re, 
though the morning was the darkest of the season, and a dense fog 
settling down on Georgetown, the general judgment was that we 
should soon drive through and get above the fog, and have clear 
weather at the Peak. So, well supplied with wraps, we set out with 



COLORADO. 467 

the mercury at 40°, and the fog thickening. Our route lay along 
Main Clear Creek, by Silver Plume, Brownville, The Terrible Mine, 
Old Bakerville, and many a scene of gloom and grandeur; now in a 
forest of dense pines, again in a narrow gorge, and a little later along 
a rocky dugway, hundreds of feet above the stream. Though wrap- 
ped in a fog constantly growing denser, our encouraging driver in- 
sisted we should soon get through it; and, though now chilled and dis- 
couraged, there was sunshine and a bright day above. We did get 
above it at last ; but, just as we emerged from the fog, the upper 
moisture fell upon us in a terrific storm of sleet. In ten minutes the 
road was a glare of ice, our wrappings stiff as armor, and the horses' 
manes and tails white with hoar frost, while their smoking bodies in- 
dicated that they were the only members of the party comfortably 
warm. Then came delusive signs of clearing oif; the sun sent an 
occasional ray through the rifted clouds, the sleet ceased to fall, 
patches of blue sky appeared here and there ; and, to our delighted 
eyes, the vast red and yellow range of McClellan Mountain rose sud- 
denly before us, almost over our heads, its snowy and icy summit glit- 
tering in the sunlight like an exhalation from the mist. But that 
wdiich brought hope to us, settled the case with our experienced guide, 
who marked that the rock rabits (conies?) ran from covert to covert 
with a peculiar low moaning cry, like that of a bird in pain ; that the 
mountain ground-squirrels (gophers?) did not venture out, and that 
the loose stock on the range was hurrying into the densest timber in 
the canon. Animal instinct was ahead of our science, and all the local 
probabilities indicated a gale. We reached Kelso's cabin, a mile and 
a half from the foot of the Peak, at 10 A. M. ; but were scarcely 
housed before the storm came in all its fury. Ten minutes before, the 
sun was shining, the clouds floating away to the south-east, and all of 
us expecting a beautiful day. Suddenly a vast bank of black clouds 
moved down the canon from the neighborhood of the Peak, seeming 
to have the weight and momentum of a solid body ; a storm of sleet 
rattled against the windows, and sifted through the branches of the 
pines ; McClellan Peaks, but five minutes before so bright and beau- 
tiful, faded away into blackness; a rumbling sound, as of distant surf, 
was heard, only the trees nearest the windows were visible, and the air 
was filled with driving snow. It w'as no use to think of making the 
trip that day; one and all recognized the fact, and set in to make the 
time as jolly as possible. We could not have been snowed in with 
better company, or in a better place, for Kelso's is literally a gem in 
the mountains. The name, Kelso's, is applied to an irregular collec- 



458 WESTERN WILDS. 

tion of log and frame cabins, built years ago by the Sonora Mining 
Company, and now kept as a hotel by Mrs. Z. M. Lane and Son. 
There arc bedding and accomniodutioii for fifteen persons, including 
first-class fare, warm rooms, lil)rary and material for parlor amuse- 
ments. The cabin is just below tlic timber line, in the last grove, 
though a very gentle slope of mountain meadow, rich with grass and 
flowers, extends a mile and a half beyond, to the foot of the range. 
The timber line is every-where at about the same elevation, whether 
in the tropics or far north ; and by this token we know that Kelso's 
cabin is about 11,000 feet high. Nothing can be grown for the use of 
man, but the grass on all the slopes is exceedingly rank and nutritious. 
About four months in the year the climate is delightful ; then comes 
a week or two of severe storms, one of which caught us, and after that 
a month of Indian summer, whose glories are unsurpassed by any thing 
in New England. The grass retains its nourishing qualities until the 
snow is too deep for the cattle to paw it away in feeding ; but in May, 
though the old grass is apparently just the same, the melting snow 
seems to have taken all the sweetness out of it. Back of the cabin 
(westward) rises Kelso Mountain, perhaps fifteen hundred feet above 
the creek, containing several valuable mines; east of it the almost 
perpendicular McClellan range puts out north-east from the summit. 
Along its ragged and forbidding sides are the Vesper, Stevens, and 
several other very rich silver lodes, their value greatly lessened by the 
difficulty of reaching and working them. 

The storm continued five hours; then a council of weather was 
called, and decided it would be clear by midnight. Captain Lane was 
to rise at 2 A. M., and, if the sky looked favorable, all were to get up 
and make the ascent in time to witness sunrise from the Peak. He 
found the mercury at that hour only five degrees above zero, with a 
sharp wind and penetrating frost; and decided, in his own mind, that 
"these tender buds of the valley could never endure such a trip," and 
let us slumber on till daylight. Every body awoke hungry, and de- 
clared the almanac mistaken ; it was Christmas instead of September 
3d, and we must have a Christmas breakfast. Mrs. Lane did the oc- 
casion justice, especially in the item of cream from cattle that only 
yesterday morning grazed on bunch-grass, now buried under six inches 
of snow, and raspberries picked from the hill-sides below the cabin. 
But summer luxuries were nowhere. Hot coffee, hot steaks, dough- 
nuts, and griddle-cakes led the demand. 

We started on the ascent at 7, with Captain Lane for a guide. 
There was not a cloud in the sky, and the bright sunshine was just 



COLORADO. 459 

spreading over the highest peaks, changing their icy glitter to a daz- 
zling variety of white, green, and yellow tints. The storm left us one 
horse short. So Mr. Merrill, journalist, of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, and 
the writer, had to " divide time " on a single pony. The Avalking was 
comparatively easy to the foot of the Peak, then suddenly the walker's 
breath gave out and he took "■ tail hold." Then ensued a scene for a 
comic almanac. With Merrill on deck and the author towing be- 
hind, we would struggle ahead for a hundred yards or so, the horse 
blowing like a porpoise and the man on foot gasping for breath, un- 
able even to say "whoa;" then the author would mount, and Merrill 
take the tail. In vain the others, now fast getting ahead of us, 
shouted : " For shame ! Let go." Neither dared to loosen his hold, 
knowing he could never make it alone. When first on foot one would 
feel peculiarly vigorous, as if he could run right up the slope without 
a gasp; but after ten or twelve steps the breath would suddenly give 
out, and leave him completely exhausted. Only a minute or two was 
required, however, for a renewal of lung-power. Merrill and I were 
both asthmatics, and the preceding day had been any thing but favora- 
ble for us ; even the poor horse might be counted a " pilgrim," as he 
had not been higher than Georgetown for a month. The air, too, 
besides being so attenuated, was very cold ; mane, tail, and nose-hairs 
were soon white with frost, as were our beards ; and I fancied I could 
see a look of almost human reproach in the pony's eye as he cast 
frequent glances at the man who held his tail. It was a mean ad- 
vantage to take — the hill was too steep for him to kick — but necessity 
justified it. 

The morning: sun had shone on the snow but an hour or so when 
bright fleecy clouds began to rise and obscure the view. Then a 
strong wind sprang up, and the mist in long, filmy lines swept around 
and buried us in its chilly depths. For five minutes at a time we 
could see but a rod or two ahead, and those who had one horse apiece 
soon left Merrill and myself far behind. Even the lady, whose guide 
and guard I should have been according to law, left us at the last 
" hog-back," being on a spirited little pony that was determined to 
keep up with the rest. All the way we could plainly hear their voices 
far above us, the shout ringing with a peculiar metallic clink, like the 
" honk, honk " of wild geese, heard over our heads against a wintry 
sky. At intervals a strong wand would spring up from the south-west 
and sweep all the mist far away over McClellan Mountain ; then we 
could look back over the sub-ranges and foot-hills and see the clouds 
banked far out on the plains, at least five thousand feet below us. 



460 WESTERN WILDS. 

Then back would come the breeze and with it tlie mist, and we would 
struggle on invisible to eaeli other. 

About two-thirds of the way up, the elements presented a wonderful 
sight. The wind coming around the peaks in two currents created a 
vast whirlpool in mid-air, the clouds formed in an immense oval, with 
an opening in the center, down which we could see the deep blue sky, 
millions of miles away. The sunlight brightened the inner edges of 
this oval, about which the clouds were rushing round and round with 
a swiftness that made the head swim to witness it. From this center 
outward the clouds grew darker by easy gradations till lost in two im- 
mense black columns, one coming around Torrey's Peak from one direc- 
tion, the other meeting it from Gray's. Just at this time we of the 
rear-guard were passing along the last "hog-back," which is, perhaps, 
a rod wide and nearly level ; to the right the face of the mountain, 
now covered with snow and ice, slopes away at an angle of 50° for 
some two thousand feet, while to the left is an open chasm with per- 
pendicular sides and a depth of seven hundred feet. Fortunately, the 
trail there is over gravel and loose stones, instead of solid rock, and 
there is no danger of slipping. But a few weeks since, a lady who 
went up for a sunrise view, on returning by this point, fainted at sight 
of what she had passed in the dark. The danger is all in the looks. 
A horse with any experience can go along a ridge two feet wide just 
as safely as on a broad turnpike. In 1874, a miner got benighted on 
McClellan Mountain, and rode a mountain pony down one of those 
almost perpendicular gorges, where no man dare ride in the day- 
time and with a sight of the danger. The horse took the nearest cut 
for home, and only added another instance to the truth that the in- 
stinct of a mountain pony is more certain tlian the reason of a man. 
Had the rider tried to guide him down by day, it would have been 
death to both. 

Soon after this passage a loud shout from the upper air announced 
that the party had completed the ascent; and hurrying on as fast as 
our lungs would allow, in half an hour we were with them. Just then 
a strong wind swept away the clouds, and for ten minutes we enjoyed 
all the glory of the view — a free outlook for a hundred miles or more 
in all directions. East of us McClellan Mountain seemed to run down 
with perfect regularity till it merged in Leavenworth, and that again 
in Griffith ; but that low the clouds were massed so heavily that all 
view of the plains and foot-hills was shut off. A heavy storm seemed 
to be in progress at Denver, and the dark clouds hung above that 
place, but still eight thousand feet below us. Southward we could 



COLORADO. 



461 



catch but fitful glances of Pike's Peak, as it seemed to be wrapped in 
vast accumulations of cloud which revolved around it as a center of 
attraction. NorthAvard and toward Long's Peak the view was much 
the same. The clouds seemed driving with force against the highest 
part of the range. Across the canons they would move with surpris- 




SOUTH-WEST FROM CRAY'S PEAK. 



ing swiftness, the sunlight striking through and giving them a soft and 
fleecy whiteness ; but encountering the peaks those behind apparently 
shoved on those in front till they heaped up in heavy black masses, too 
dense for the solar rays to penetrate them. Down the Pacific Slope, 



462 WESTERN WILDS. 

south-westward, the view for a long time was uninterrupted. From 
our standpoint the hill fell off evenly, and too steep for descent, for 
three thousand feet or more to a beautiful green valley, dotted with 
dense groves of fir and pine ; and beyond that we could see over the 
sub-ranges and look directly down into a score of narrow valleys, 
through which as many clear streams coursed like narrow bands 
of silver — all bearing rapidly downward to Bear Creek and Snake 
River, and tlionce out to the Great Colorado. Here and there ap- 
peared little mining camps, seemingly set like toy villages on the 
green plats, in among the heavy pines, or against the red and yellow 
faces of the cliffs. 

But this extended view was brief. First came a dead calm, and 
then a strong wind from the south-west drove the mist over the scene. 
To the north-west only was the view clear, and in that direction we 
saw merely the broken peaks in which head the tAvo Laramies and 
minor affluents of the North Platte. Beyond them, and a mile and a 
quarter vertically below us, were Laramie Plains, now hidden from our 
sight by dense clouds. The cold had meantime grown too intense for 
the most hardy, and we crouched down behind a stone wind-breaker 
which successive tourists have erected. The brandy, which no one 
should ascend without, was produced and a light lunch partaken of; 
but two of the ladies completely succumbed, and recourse was had to 
ammonia and chafing the hands and face with snow. No serious suf- 
fering followed, though some jicople are greatly affected at such 
heights. Those of a hemorrhagic tendency often have bleeding at the 
nose. The only thing that bothers me is a sort of over-action of the 
heart and a heavy fluttering in the temples, if I move faster than a 
slow walk. Most of us suffered only from cold ; and the most hardy 
remained upon the summit but an hour. On the descent there was 
one slight accident. An unskillfully fastened buckle turned in the 
girth and so irritated the horse, which a lady was riding, that he took 
the bit in his teeth and started for home. He descended all that 
winding Avay in less than three-quarters of an hour — we were two 
hours ascending — reaching the cabin an hour before us, while she, to 
use her own words, "hung on to the pommel and trusted in God." 
That was, however, the best thing to do, even if the horse had been at 
his natural gait, for in attempting to guide one is much more apt to 
disconcert him. I am willing enough to be carried up a mountain, 
but I prefer to walk down, which I did in this instance, reaching the 
base in an hour and a quarter. 

It Avas now past noon; the snow was entirely melted from the 



COLORADO. 463 

mountain meadows, just above the timber line ; the late ice-locked 
rivulets again ran unvexed, and the brawling brooks were musically- 
pouring their increased waters into Clear Creek. From the summit, 
even in the hottest weather, all these streams appear as if frozen solid ; 
the eye can perceive no motion, and the white foam over the ripples 
has the exact appearance of ice. Our ride over the grassy slope to the 
cabin was delightful, the air having moderated to a pleasant warmth. 
McClellan Mountain, to our right, presented only here and there a 
patch of snow. Nearly all the west face of it is inaccessible, there be- 
ing but a few ravines filled with earth slides up which zigzag trails 
have been with great difficulty constructed. From our road the cabin 
and ore-house of the Stevens' mine seems as if suspended against the 
cliff in mid-air, the chains which, anchored into the solid rock, hold 
it in place being, of course, invisible to us. One could scarcely avoid 
the conclusion that it maintained position contrary to the law of grav- 
ity. A few rods west of it is one of these earth slides mentioned, and 
up this a man and donkey were slowly working their way along a zig- 
zag which looked to us nearly perpendicular. This trail leads up to 
a point even with the mine, and thence a way is worked along the 
face of the rock to the cabin. In addition to all these difficulties, the 
air is so rare that few men can do a full day's work there, but the ore 
is so rich that the Stevens pays well for working. Evidently there 
never can be sudden inflation from an increase of the precious metals, 
for the difficulty of getting will always make them valuable. 

I strained my eye to find the cabin of the Vesper Mine, which we 
visited on the 4th of July, and finally saw it within a few rods of the 
summit, looking like a pigeon-house stuck on a rock. Below it was 
the gulch and earth slide, with a slope of seventy degrees for 2,500 feet, 
down which we rolled the granite bowlders. After a good warming 
and a hot feed at the cabin, we gladly took carriage at 3 P. M., and, 
all the way being down-hill, reached Georgetown at five, delighted, 
disgusted, frost-touched, tired and sleepy. 

Moral — Go to the summit between June 15th and August 15th, or 
wait till settled cold weather. 

The three months I spent among the mines of Colorado were among 
the most pleasant in my life. In August I came down to Denver 
and thence, by way of Bowlder City, visited the rich Caribou District, 
which was just then exciting so much attention. Leaving Denver at 
4 A. M., with the Sunday morning express sent out by the Bochy 
Mountain News, we drove north-west over the high plains lying be- 
tween that city and Bowlder. This region is now dotted with arti- 



464 WESTERN WILDS. 

ficial lakes, all stocked with trout. All the irrigating canals, taken 
out as far as possible up the mountain streams, are carried high up 
on the ridges, and into every convenient depression an acecquia leads 
sufficient water to maintain a crystal lake. This insures, in a few 
years, an abundant supply of fish ; and local scientists affirm that the 
increase of water surface will eventually give this section more rain- 
fall, and redeem much of the high land for agriculture. Bowlder has 
a romantic location. Just above the town, westward, the mountain 
rises very abruptly nearly two thousand feet, its front split by the nar- 
row Bowlder Caiion, from whose rugged jaws gushes the clear and 
crystal stream. Once issued from the mountain, the foaming creek 
subsides to a gentle current, meandering through a fertile valley. 
Some distance up the canon a flume is put in, to gain a fall, and 
thence the water is carried along the cliff in trestled boxes ; issuing 
thence far up on the ridge, it circles all the valley, supplying irri- 
gation to thirty thousand acres of land, with abundant surplus for 
fish-ponds and fountains. Bowlder Valley now yields from a fourth 
to a third of all the wheat produced in Colorado. 

But if you would enjoy Western Wilds in all their native beauty, take 
the stage from Bowlder up to Caribou, at the head of the canon — all 
the way through pine-clad hills, romantic glens or wild gorges, which 
excite every emotion of awe and sublimity. To the right of the road, 
shut in by walls of water-worn granite and shaded by dense forests of 
overhanging pines, are the Bowlder Falls — a mighty work of nature, 
which will long remain unmarred by the hand of man, for rocky 
flume, granite wall and pine-clad summit have transcendent beauty 
Avithout utility. The stream, which rises almost on the summit, issu- 
ing from the snow-banks which send out ice-cold rills from May till 
October, plunges down a series of offsets, each making a majestic cas- 
cade, each cascade differing from all the rest. From the foot of each 
little fall a winding way leads along the mossy hill-sides to the next 
above ; while the whole way is shaded by the immense pines, which 
in places lean over and mingle their branches above the foamy rapids. 
Here a well-equipped excursion party might spend days of calm en- 
joyment, shaded by the evergreen forests, lulled by the roar of the 
waters, soothing eye and brain by contemplation of nature's wild 
beauty. 

After a day's slow progress upward, our coach suddenly emerges 
into the open mountain meadows about Nederland (location of the 
Holland Company's quartz mills), and a few miles beyond darkness 
comes upon us at Caribou, a mining town almost on the summit of 



COLORADO. 465 

the mountains. There is a singiihir air of newness in the Avhole dis- 
trict. In town I find the streets not yet cleared of native timber; of 
the thousand or more inhabitants most are living in unfinished frames, 
and the heavy groves of pine on all the surrounding knolls give the 
place the j)leasing appearance of a camp-meeting ground. And here 
I put in a few days studying the silver mines. 

The main ridge, called by the enthusiastic the " Mountain of Sil- 
ver," was for a mile or more completely pock-marked M'ith prospect 
holes, but no more than a dozen locations were developed suffaciently to 
be called mines. It is notable that in all new mining regions one will 
find hundreds of claims with shafts down fifty or seventy-five feet, and 
work suspended. In many instances it is because the original lo- 
cators are not able to push the development, but sometimes because 
they are afraid to. The vein, they reason, shows well at present; 
there are good indications of a true fissure, such indications as will 
impress buyers favorably that a big lode is below, but if they sink a 
hundred feet, it may not turn out a true fissure after all. So they will 
sell on present appearances. Buyers should look out for such cases^ 
and, if the shaft is not down at least a hundred feet, be sure anyhow 
that it proves the existence of a regular fissure. 

Down in the Sherman Mine I found a score of men picking and 
blasting out the rich rock, of which the poorest grade yields a hun- 
dred and thirty ounces of silver per ton, the richest fourteen hundred 
ounces. This estimate is from the mill-runs — the only honest test of 
a mine's capacity. Assays, of course, show more. The assay er who 
does not pay for any thing, but is paid for "sample assay," may not 
be entirely disinterested, but the mill-owner is not going to pay a dol- 
lar an ounce for a single ounce of silver more than he can get out of 
the rock. Most mill men do not claim to get more than eighty-five 
per cent, of the silver actually in the rock, but the owners at Neder- 
latid, where this ore is worked, now claim to get over ninety per cent. 
This fact also makes the mill run a better test than the assay, for, ob- 
viously, investers in mines care more for what they can get out than 
what science shows to be there. And herein is seen one of the reasons 
why it pays to transport many kinds of ore from Colorado to Swan- 
sea, Wales, for there they save all the silver, gold, arsenic and other 
minerals. 

In the Sherman and some other mines here was used the new com- 
pound known as tri-nitro-glycerine. The workmen objected forcibly 
at first, but the inventor and manufacturer, Professor C D. Chase, of St. 
Louis, maintains that it is safer than any other explosive in use. Its 
30 



466 WESTERN WILDS. 

power is wonderful. During my stay the workmen in tlie lower drift, 
drilled one hole four feet deep, and put in a cartridge eighteen inches 
long, containing eight inches of the stuff; when " shot" it broke out 
25 cubic feet of solid granite. It is entirely too powerful to fool 
with. So, when invited to go down and see it work, I respectfully 
declined. It is usually " planted " in a metal cartridge, and exploded 
with battery and cap, but in cases where the cartridge can not be in- 
serted the liquid is poured in. The common method is to bore four 
holes in. the face of the drift, then fill and explode them all at once, 
tearing olf a yard square and a foot in depth of the rock. This ex- 
plosive has been found cheaper than dualin, dynamite or giant powder, 
and now that the workmen are acquainted with it they consider it safe 
enough. But it would take high wages to keep me in its vicinity 
very long. 

Near the Sherman is the Poor Man's Lode, with vein from two to 
six feet in thickness, and ore-seam from five inches to two feet. The 
rest of the vein is filled with quartz and decomposed granite. The 
existence of narrow ore-seams in large veins, the rest of the vein mat- 
ter often entirely barren, though sometimes containing threads or 
pockets of silver ore, is a characteristic of nearly all the mines of Col- 
orado, and a never-failing source of speculation and theorizing. The 
advocates of the sublimation theory of lode-formation rely upon it 
very largely to prove their case; and it is the one phenomenon which 
advocates of the eruption theory can not explain in harmony with 
their views. For, manifestly, if the contents of the vein all gushed 
up in a mass from liquid reservoirs below, they could not have thus 
arranged themselves in neat layers of ore and vein-stone ; Avhile, if 
condensed from successive mineral vapors, we should naturally expect 
the existing order. The " Poor Man" and " Sherman" preserve their 
course quite regularly in the deep workings, as indeed do most of the 
lodes here. One great source of lawsuits is found in the fact that the 
veins under ground will not follow the course laid down for them on 
the surface in a United States patent. The patent generally locates 
the claim along the mountain side as straight as a yard-stick; but at 
a hundred feet or more in depth the course of the vein resembles 
rather a crack in ice made by a heavy blow — there are whims, drop- 
pers, feeders, cross-courses, dips, spurs, angles, variations and sinuosi- 
ties. Now, if you locate your patent on a cross-course, and I after- 
"•oards locate mine on the main vein, arid we run together a hundred 
feet down, the question is whether the older location or the truer one 
should hold. In new mining camps " first blood " generally holds, 



COLORADO. 467 

regardless of law. One set of judges have held that the title follows 
the vein, when proved that it is the main vein, no matter whether it 
agrees with the patent on the surface or not; but another class holds 
that this contradicts the old principle of common law — that the 
owner on the surface " owns from zenith to nadir," and that if one's 
vein runs under another's, the latter holds, regardless of priority. 
Evidently that old rule must be abrogated as to mining property, and 
the title follow the main vein wherever it goes, if we are ever to have 
certainty. In the Sherman and Caribou mines a light can be seen a 
hundred yards along the vein in the deepest workings. 

The great Caribou mine has been so often described that the sub- 
ject has become stale, but its history has the elements of romance. 
It was discovered December 23, 1869, and located in the names of 
W. J. Martin, Samuel Mishler, George Lytle, Hugh McCameron, 
John H. Pickle and Henry Mishler. By them it was worked till 
September, 1870, paying almost from the start. But the discoverers 
wxre not very well posted, and as a rule the locators make little or 
nothing out of a mine. They sold out rather cheap, nobody knows 
for how much, and one-half the mine became the property of Abel 
D. Breed, Esq., with attorneyship for the other half. Sixty thousand 
dollars were spent in development, and erecting house and machinery 
for working ; but ore enough was taken out meantime to leave a clear 
profit of $175,000. This demonstrated its great richness beyond a 
doubt, and it was put upon the foreign market. A small corps of 
foreign engineers examined and reported upon it, and as a result it 
was sold to the mining company Nederland, of Hague, Holland, for 
$3,000,000. It was then worked according to scientific principles, 
under the superintendency of Mr. Benjamin Rule. Three eight-hour 
shifts were employed, and no work was done on Sunday. No man was 
allowed about the mine in a state of intoxication ; one appearance in that 
character was cause for a discharge. The printed rules, conspicuously 
posted, to which every employe subscribes, also forbade all profane, 
obscene or abusive language. It is estimated by the best judges that 
there are at least twenty-one claims with clearly defined veins, known 
to be of some value, on the entire hill. Ore from each of these, 
selected at random and mixed, was sent in bulk to Johnson, Matheny 
& Co., of Hatton Garden, E. C, London, and yielded a hundred and 
ninety-two ounces of silver per ton. Of course so many veins known, 
and more suspected, have stimulated the formation of tunnel companies, 
and no less than half a dozen tunnels were started into Caribou Hill, 
which is verv favorably situated for that work. The hill has a 



468 WESTERN WILDS. 

general course east and west. Towards the north (or rather east of 
north) it falls away abruptly to a btantiful circular j)ark. In all 
other directions than towards Caribou the inclosing walls of the park 
rise in gentle rounded hills, closed with heavy forests of pine. From 
the various gulches run clear streams to the center of the valley, form- 
ing a creek lai-ge enough for milling purposes; and far to the north- 
east stretch extensive pastures in the vales and timber on the ridges. 
In that part \& the best locality for a quartz mill which the vicinity 
affords, and consequently all the tunnel claims are located on that 
side: They lie only a thousand feet apart, as the law allows each one 
that space,- an-d if completed will undermine the entire hill in sections 
of a thousand feet each, striking the various lodes at a depth of from 
five hundred to a thousand feet. The law allows a tunnel company 
five hundred feet on any lode they strike, " not located on the surface 
at the date the tunnel site was located." But if the owner of any 
mine ojjened above proposes to dispute title, the burden of proof is on 
him to trace connection, which it will obviously take him some time 
to do, and for this reason and the greater convenience of shipping ore 
through that channel, the interests generally unite. 

From Caribou I took the mountain road across to Central City — 
site of the far-famed Gregory Gulch Diggings, and thence to Idaho 
City, and up to Georgetown. The way was over mountain meadows, 
mingling the rich green with bright-hued flowers ; through dark pine 
forests and down lonely gulches, where the indefatigable prospectors 
had dotted all the slopes with holes in search of" indications." Some- 
times the route lay over levels where one could scarcely believe him- 
self on a mountain, though we were from eight to nine thousand feet 
above the sea ; and sometimes in depressions we saw heavy crops of 
rye and potatoes, ripening in late August, a mile and a half above the 
Missouri Valley. Near Central City hundreds of acres of bare gray 
rocks show where the surface soil has been " piped off" to get at the 
gold dust; and in a few places gangs of Chinese are still at work on 
the poorest diggings, long since abandoned by whites. But placer 
mining in this vicinity has long yielded to quartz mining, and the few 
Chinese at the time of my visit were even worse regarded than in 
California. A fire, a few weeks before, had laid a large section of the 
city in ruins ; and, as it originated among the Mongolians, they were 
for a long time forbidden to come into the upper part of town. But 
the poor, pathetically patient race, bided its time and held its own. 

My summer's work was done, and while September heats still lin- 
gered on the plains, we left the cool air of Georgetown for the journey 



COLORADO 469 

to Salt Lake CUj. From Denver to Cheyenne the mixed train 
jogged along all one bright autumn day : to our left the blue 
mountains, the broad plains to our right ; sometimes over flats 
almost as level as the sea, sometimes through gently rolling val- 
leys, and more rarely along the course of creeks long since dried 
up. On the level the plains present that uniform gray-brown ap- 
pearance which is natural to them at this season ; but on some of 
the slopes and in all the little valleys were narrow^ strips of rich 
green, and a soil looking as if it might be made productive. As 
we progressed broad lakes continually appeared, shone for a few 
moments or for hours, then passed out of sight; sometimes to the 
eastward but oftener straight ahead, the hills beyond beautifully re- 
flected from their mirror like surfaces. But as the train bore down 
towards them they shifted again and again ; sometimes moving oflP 
upon the eastern plain, sometimes keeping the same distance ahead, 
and yet again rising slowly into the air till lost in the clouds. But 
of real honest water, there was not a drop, for where there is 
enough of that to make humid the atmosphere the mirage is rarely 
seen. These were the ^' lying waters" of which Spanish explorers 
tell, and which, before they were so well known, lured many a voya- 
geur from his course and to his death. As the country is settled it 
is remarked that this mirage is more and more rare; but the best 
time and place to see it is on the dry plains of California, of a hot 
afternoon in August, 

An hour we stopped at Greeley, the noted "Yankee Settlement," 
now the center of a rich and well cultivated tract. The shade trees 
early planted by the colonists already relieve the monotony of the plains ; 
the dark mountains furnish a splendid background, and in ten years 
more this town will rival in rural beauty the nicest New England 
village. Soon after we passed the Wyoming line ; but a year after T 
returned, for further travels in Colorado. The summary in the next 
chapter is from notes and cai-eful study during both visits. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 

Don Francisco Vasquez Coronado, (the chronicle does not give 
his other name,) Avas the first Pike's Peaker. In 1541 he set out from 
the City of Mexico to find and conquer the "Seven Cities of Cibohi," 
where, according to the reports of reliable gentlemen and the common 
belief of all New Spain, gold was so plentiful tliat the Cibolans used 
it for the manufacture of common utensils, while their houses were 
lighted with precious stones, and silver was not accounted of. His 
command consisted of some seven hundred cavaliers and gentlemen 
of the New Spain nobility, who gladly sold all they had to outfit, as- 
suring the reporters of Mexico City that "neither themselves nor 
their families would ever need more gold than they should bring back 
from the Seven Cities." They marched and fought, and fought and 
marclicd: up the Colorado to the mouth of the Gila, up the Gila to 
the Casas Grandes and northward across Arizona to the Rio San Juan. 
They penetrated what is now Colorado, then turned south-east to 
where Santa Fe now stands, and still their Indian guides assured them 
the golden Cibola of their hopes was a little further on. After a brief 
rest, having destroyed a few Pueblo towns and temples, and burnt 
their idols for the truth's sake, they crossed the mountains and 
marched down nearly to the center of the present Indian Territory, 
and still found no Cibola, no gold, and no rich kingdom. Then the 
inevitable quarrel arose, the expedition broke up, and the cavaliers re- 
turned to Mexico, seven years older, considerably poorer, and some- 
what wiser than they left it. But they added to Spanish territory, by 
the apostolical right of discovery, an area twelve times the size of 
Ohio; the same since added to our free Pejniblic by the slaveholder's 
right of conquest, and payment of ten million , dollars. A fas- 
cinating account of Coronado's expedition Avas written by a Span- 
ish gentleman in the party, a Mr. Castenada, who was born three 
centuries too soon. He should have lived in our day and 
been a Washington correspondent; he had the requisite fancy and 
power of romantic embellishment, and Avas pious to a fault. He 
would have consented to the death of all the heathen in the new ter- 

(470) 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 471 

ritory, if they had stood in the way of consecrating the gold to Cath- 
olic uses. 

Many other expeditions did the Spaniards make,' but few of them 
came north of the Arkansas. Finally, some two hundred years ago. 
Northern New Mexico was settled, and thereafter by degrees the 
Spanish outposts extended up to the Raton Mountains and into the 
rich parks and valleys where head the affluents of the Rio Grande. 
So those who speak of Colorado as so new a country, would do well to 
remember that a part of it is older than Ohio. Two hundred years 
passed away and under the auspices of President Jefferson, Colonel 
Zebulon Pike explored "that part of Louisiana which lieth along the 
foot of the Sierra Madre " (Rocky Mountains), and in the summer of 
1806, gazed with wonder on the snow-capped summit of Pike's Peak. 
This he set, with some hesitation, at 17,500 feet high. Later and 
more accurate explorers have reduced his estimate some 3,000 feet. 
Proceeding southward he was captured and imprisoned by the sus- 
picious Captain-General of New Mexico; and to this day many are 
the legends among the Mexicans about the " fair-haired Americano," 
and the gallantry (in its double sense) of his men. 

As early as 1820, Colorado was traversed in all directions by white 
hunters and trappers, and in 1840 the eastern section contained several 
trading posts, among which Fort Lancaster, on the Platte, and Bent's 
Fort, on the Arkansas, were most prominent. In 1842, twelve Amer- 
icans took unto themselves Mexican wives, and employed their dark 
relations in erecting a fort, which w^as the foundation of the present 
American city of Pueblo ; and about the same time twenty families of 
whites and half-breeds made a settlement on or near the Fontaine Que 
Bouille, Thus stood the population for many years. From midsum- 
mer till Christmas there was hunting, trapping and fighting Indians; 
then the nomadic inhabitants — they could not by any stretch of lan- 
guage be called settlers — gathered to the trading-posts and spent the 
proceeds of their season's work. At each post was a medley of 
traders, trappers and hunters, white, Mexican and Indian; their 
amusements, racing, gambling, dancing and drinking, varied by fre- 
quent bloody fights, whereof the accounts are sometimes amusing, 
oftener disgusting. These contests were nearly always over dis- 
puted property — chiefly horses or women, both of which were very 
valuable — helped in no small degree by the villainous whisky dis- 
pensed by the American Fur Company. Almost every prominent 
point in Eastern Colorado received its name from some tragic occur- 
rence. Instance the following: Fifteen Mexicans from Taos quar- 



472 WESTERN WILDS. 

reled Avitli about an equal number of Americans at Fort Lancaster, 
ul)()at a trade of horses and furs. The Americans ambushed them and 
stampeded all their stock. The Mexicans took arms and advanced on 
tlieir foes; then, the votnmmidantcs on each side being leaders and 
spokesmen, ensued the following: 

Mexican — " Que quiere caballero ! '^ (What do you Avant, sir?) 

American — " Yo tengo lo caballardo — porquc dlcirme csta f " (I have 
your horses — wliy do you ask?) 

" Carnho, Americano!" shouted the Mexican, bringing his gun to 
his shoulder ; but the American was too quick with his pistol and laid 
the other prostrate, the ball passing through him just below the heart. 
The result was "the survival of the fittest," and the ''superior race" 
retired with their booty. An appeal to the trading company at 
the fort brought an international council, which resulted in an 
amicable settlement. The wounded man recovered in three montlis, 
and the place was thenceforth known as " Greaser's Gulch." 

Herring and Beer were mountaineers, companions and friends, who 
])aid court to the same senoriia. Herring married her, and Beer 
grossly insulted him, with intent to bring on a quarrel and kill him. 
A duel was agreed on, and Beer, who was a crack shot, confidently 
expected to kill Herring, who was considered a poor "off-hand marks- 
man." They met, attended by their friends, who arranged that the 
shooting was to be at any time the principals chose in the count be- 
tween the word fire and three. At the word fire, the ball of Beer's 
rifle buried in a cottonwood just over Herring's head; at the word 
three, Herring's ball pierced the heart of Beer, who was buried in the 
ffulch where he fell. When I visited it lono; afterward the gulch was 
still known as " Beer's Folly." 

Sadder, more bloody and more romantic was the episode of Vaughn 
and La Bonte, life long companions and friends, but destined to ex- 
emplify the deadly bitterness of "love to hatred turned." Together 
they had traversed every trail on the plains and trapped on every 
stream in the mountains; at the old Arkansas crossing they had fought 
side by side against the murderous Kioways; they had taken beaver 
together on Clear Creek, and gnawed the same bone in the extremity 
of hunger when overtaken too early by the winter storms. Common 
:langer and suffering creates strange friendships. Perhaps it is not the 
intelligent social comity which unites men of some cultivation; per- 
haps it is more like an exaggeration of that kinship which makes even 
dumb animals cling to each other, and in a mysterious way mourn 
another's death. Be that as it may, a little cloud, no bigger than a 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 473 

man's hand or a woman's face, rose on the horizon of their friendship. 
Chance expressions were repeated with additions; petulant remarks, 
which the speaker was sorry for ere they died upon the air, grew from 
lip' to lip and reached the other's ears as vile slanders; for "mutual 
friends" are as busy and blundering in the wilds as in the city. 

Vaughn, the elder, was a grizzled mountaineer, with the dry humor 
of a " Tennessee Yankee " ; his sarcasm was cutting, and he affected 
an indifference to woman's charms. La Bonte, on the contrary, had 
all the impetuosity of the Frenchman, which had survived through 
all the generations since his forefathers settled in Canada. The life 
of a voyageur and trapper had only heightened his mercurial tempera- 
ment; he was a backwoods dandy, and adorned his person with the 
handiwork of squaws. One fine morning in 1843, they rode into the 
Pueblo fort fast friends, as they persuaded themselves, having settled 
their little differences; that night they parted rivals, and consequently 
enemies. This transformation was affected by the smiles of a brown 
mestizd, who had previously pledged her "punic faith" to Vaughn, 
but to-day, seeing La Bonte for the first time, was charmed by his 
youthful gallantry and French display. To the older hunter this was 
blackest treachery on the part of his friend; to the younger it was 
fair emulation. A week after, they met at a trappers' rendezvous. 
Hot words ensued and knives were drawn; but there was no liquor on 
the ground so early in the season, and friends separated them without 
bloodshed. Then spoke the Tennesseean : 

" Compadre, seein' what you have been, I don't want none o' your 
blood on my weepins. Go you one way, I'll go another. When this 
season's over, let the best man win her." 

"I'm white on this thing," replied La Bonte; "my hunt this year is 
up the Cache La Poudre." 

"Then," w^as the answer, "I'll go the Sangre de Christo run with 
these men. No tricks now — you don't turn back to Pueblo?" 

It was settled; but unfortunately for Vaughn's resolution his party 
lingered, and he was deputed to go to Pueblo for further supplies. 
There he learned that La Bonte had returned, and, after a brief court- 
ship of two days, taken the mcstiza — his own, as Vaughn considered 
her — to one of the northern posts. In all the solitary hours of that 
season's hunt he brooded over his wrong, till hatred possessed his 
soul. Meanwhile, as if driven by fate. La Bonte crossed the mount- 
ains, having found the season bad on the Cache La Poudre, and 
turned southward into the very region he had promised his rival to 
avoid. One day, as Vaughn rested his horse in a pinon thicket, he 



474 



WESTERN WILDS. 



was sndcleiily roused by an intruder, and looking up, saw his enemy, 
the very man who had robbed him, coming up the gulch. "Off! " he 
shouted, bounding on his horse. 

'^ Sucre f" replied the Canadian, construing this as a menace, and 
setting his horse at a run. His rifle was already at his shoulder; the 
other, in his haste, had dropped his gun, but drew a pistol from his 




'THE ANIMALS DASHED MADLY BREAST TO BREAST; THE WEAPONS CRACKED SIMULTA- 
NEOUSLY." 

belt. The spurred animals dashed madly breast to breast; the 
weapons cracked simultaneously, and both men fell heavily to the 
ground. 

When Vaughn came to himself, he saw his late enemy and former 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 475 

friend lying dead near him. In his own breast was a gaping wound, 
from which his life had nearly ebbed away; and the little stream into 
which he had rolled in his delirious thirst, was vermilion with his 
blood. When picked up by his friends he made his first and last al- 
lusion to the trouble : " A d — d good man killed for a d — d bad 
Avoman — better stuck to my old idees." 

Varied only by such incidents as these, the first half of the century 
rolled away with little of historic interest. But the expeditions of 
Fremont, the Mexican war, and acquisition of new territory, the gold 
hunters' invasion of California, the opening of Kansas to settlement, 
and the Mormon war of 1857, caused the whole region to be thoroughly 
explored, with a view of finding some shorter and better route to the 
Pacific. All who came this way were eager for gold. If gold there 
was, it was only an accident who should find it. Traditions of its 
presence had been numerous for a hundred years. Many an explorer, 
white or Mexican, had returned with specimens which good judges 
pronounced gold, but somehow the clue was always lost. At last, in 

1858, came the right men. John H. Gregory, Green Russell, and 
other Georgians, old miners and familiar with the precious metals, 
found what was unmistakably gold; but it was not till the 6th of May, 

1859, that (rregory struck the gold diggings on North Clear Creek, 
which, soon became world renowned as the Gregory Lode, and settled 
affirmatively the question as to whether this was a rich mineral region. 
But the country could not wait for verification ; nothing was needed 
so badly in 1858 as a new excitement. The Kansas troubles had been 
happily settled, the Mormon war was over, and newspaperdom was 
dying of ennui. So, soon after a few ounces of gold dust reached 
Leavenworth, the whole country was stirred, and for months " Pike's 
Peak" glared at us in display type from the head of a thousand new^s 
columns. Along with the prospector went the able-l)odied correspond- 
ent, and beat the old Spanish chroniclers on their own soil. Wonder 
was piled on wonder, and a patient public accepted all as truth ; but at 
last, extravagance run mad effected its own cure. Here is a speci- 
men from an Iowa paper : 

" We learn from a gentleman just returned from the Peak that the gold lies in bands 
or strata down the slope. The custom of the best miners is to construct a heavy wooden 
float with iron ribs, similar to a stone boat; this is taken to the top of the Peak, where 
several men get in and guide it down over the gold strata. The gold curls up on the 
boat like shavings, and is gathered in as they progress. This is the usual method of 
collecting it." 

Within one year this region received seventy-five thousand Amer- 
icans. The romance and tragedy of this invasion have often been 



476 WEST ^^DS. 

portra-ycd. I am here chiefly concerned with the genesis and evolu- 
tion of civil government. There was no constitutional authority in 
the country, and neither judge nor officer within five hundred miles. 
The invaders were remitted to the primal law of nature, with, per- 
haps, the inherent rights of American citizenship. Every gulch was 
filling with red-hot treasure hunters; every bar was pock-marked with 
"prospect holes;" timber, water-rights, and town-lots were soon to be 
valuable, and government was an imperative necessity. Here was a 
fine field for theorists to test their views as to the origin of civil law. 
Poet and political romancer have described in captivating lines, the 
descent of civil government as a heaven-born genius, full-grown and 
perfect from the mind of Deity. But to the historian of events is left 
a far less pleasing task. He can not but see that government is the 
most awkward and imperfect of all human inventions. Here, as else- 
where, it was a creature of slow, irregular growth, evolved by reason 
and experience from the hopes and fears of men, originating in the 
instinct of self-preservation, and developed by necessity and concession. 
Four different governments sprang up with concurrent jurisdiction. 
The favorite theory of Senator Douglas, that local self-government 
was inherent in American citizenship every-where in our territory, 
seems to have been adopted by a majority of the first comers; and 
they straightway proceeded to' organize the " Territory of Jefferson." 
On the 6th of November, 1858, an election was held at Denver, and 
H. J. Graham chosen without opposition as delegate to Congress. He 
went to Washington, and had the pleasure of paying his own expenses 
there all winter ; for " Jefferson " was not admitted. Nevertheless, 
delegates from thirteen precincts assembled the next April, took the 
preliminary steps, and called an organizing convention to meet in 
August, 1859. One hundred and sixty-seven delegates came together, 
tried to construct a State, and failed; but a little later "Jefferson" 
was regularly organized. An elected legislature assembled in Novem- 
ber, listened to an admirable inaugural from Governor R. "W. Steele, 
organized nine counties, granted charters for the new towns, and 
passed a very good criminal code and body of mining laws. jNIean- 
while, Kansas had organized this country into Arapahoe County, and 
to make a sure thing of it, a full set of county officers were elected, 
wdio exercised a sort of hop-skip-and-jump jurisdiction, bobbing 
around in the mountains, foot-hills, or in Denver, wherever they 
could get a foothold. But these might be called governments by am- 
bition, rather than by necessity; the latter kind were meanwhile being 
orranized in the mountains and ranches. 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 477 

The first comers there were generally in little squads, old friends 
and neighbors, and each party amicably divided all the gulch heticeen 
them. But the next year came sixty thousand more, who wanted a 
show; and it is highly creditable to the pioneers that rules were agreed 
upon with so little trouble. The example was set in Gregory Gulch 
(Central City). A mass meeting of miners was held June 8, 1859, 
and a committee appointed to draft a code of laws. This committee 
laid out boundaries for the district, and their civil code, after some 
discussion and amendment, was unanimously adopted in mass meeting, 
July 16, 1859. The example was rapidly followed in other districts, 
and the whole Territory was soon divided between a score of local 
sovereignties. But these were only laws as to property ; there was so 
little crime the first year that none others were needed. The Miners' 
Courts, as they were called, were presided over by justices of the 
i)eace, chosen by ballot ; these, as a matter of form, usually took out a 
commission, sometimes from the " Territory of Jefferson," sometimes 
from Arapahoe County, and often from both. 

But now money began to be plenty, and criminals invaded the 
country. The civil courts promptly assumed criminal jurisdiction, and 
the year 1860 opened with four governments in full blast. The 
miners' courts, people's courts, and " provisional government " (a 
new name for "Jefferson,") divided jurisdiction in the mountains; 
while Kansas and the provisional government ran concurrent in 
Denver and the valley. Such as felt friendly to either jurisdiction 
patronized it with their business. Appeals were taken from one to 
the other, papers certified up or down and over, and recognized, 
criminals delivered and judgments accepted from one court by 
another, with a happy informality which it is pleasant to read of. 
And here we are confronted by an awkward fact : there was undoubt- 
edly much less crime in the two years this arrangement lasted than in 
the two which followed the territorial organization and regular gov- 
ernment. The miners and ranchers were, as a rule, sober and indus- 
trious, and few atrocious cases were brought before the people's courts. 
In Denver three homicides and two duels had occurred down to April, 
1860 ; but soon after came an invasion of thieves and rufSans, and the 
conflict there was terrible for a time. 

If any of that class ventured into the mountains, the miners made 
short work of them. The miners' laws were usually drafted by com- 
mittees and adopted in full mass meeting, the government being a pure 
democracy. Each law began with "Resolved," though it was 
sometimes changed, as a matter of form, to " Be it enacted." Lawyers 



478 WESTERN WILDS. 

were forbidden to practice in many districts. One law I copy from 
the records of Union Mining District: 

"Resolved, That no lawyer be permitted to practice law in this district, under penalty 
of not more than fifty nor less than twenty lashes, and be forever banished from tliis 
district." 

Another states that, " whereas Bill Payne, commonly known as Cock- 
eye Payne," has committed certain outrages, among which drawing 
a revolver in court, and threatening the judge, are made prominent; 
therefore, 

"Resolved, That a committee of ten good men be sent to bring in the said Bill or Cock- 
eye Payne, and he be required to show cause why he should not immediately be hung." 

It appears that he was able to show cause, and got off with banish- 
ment. 

All these little governments came to an end on the passage of a 
Civil and Criminal Code by the first Territorial Legislature, in the 
winter of 1861-'62; but this code legalized all acts of previous govern- 
ments, "not plainly contrary to justice or the common law." It was 
enacted that all the district recorders' books should be filed in the 
office of the county recorder, and be presumptive proof, the burden 
of proving the contrary to rest on the challenger ; and that all decis- 
ions of former courts were to be valid " when both parties made ap- 
pearance or had notice according to such rules as were then in force, 
whether by law or accepted custom." The change from local to terri- 
torial law appears to have been made without a ripple of disturbance, 
and all disputed claims of any prominence have risen under the pres- 
ent laws. Thus is seen in miniature the course of civil aggregation : 
first, the individual man yields to the local organization, then the local 
is slowly merged in the general. Government is seen to be, not a pos- 
itive good, but only a choice of the lesser evil. Man yields a portion 
of his natural rights in order to preserve the rest ; he supports the 
claims of others because he must ask support from them. Thus, too, 
is manifested the inherent capacity of the Anglo-Saxon for civil organ- 
ization ; and those who maintain that government necessarily had its 
origin in revelation, might profitably study the many proofs to the 
contrary in the settlement of the Far West. 

Colorado became a Territory in 1861, remained such fifteen years, 
and after four desperate efforts, at last succeeded in becoming a State, 
just in time to aid in the election of a centennial president. Denver, 
political and financial capital of the new State, is also the starting 
point for most places of interest. Thence by way of the Narrow- 
guage, fifty miles westward, and all the way up-hill, lands us in the 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 479 

mining region, where we will delay for a more specific description, the 
reader to look on while the writer climbs and talks. 

The lowlander, wlioni business or a love of novelty and wild 
scenery leads to climb one of the mountains around Georgetown, finds 
material for continual astonishment in the changes which unfold along 
his upward way. The white spots seen from below, enlarge to gray 
faces on the rocky cliffs, often hundreds of feet perpendicular ; the 
darker shades, which seem from the valley mere breaks on the view, 
open to immense gorges, down which pour torrents of almost ice-cold 
water from the snow-fed lakes on the summit, and the green plats 
which pleased the eye as distant masses of shrubbery or thickets of 
sage-brush, swell on near approach to magnificent forests of mountain 
pine. The thin dyke of yellow-gray rock, which seems to cap the 
summit with rectangular blocks, apparently smooth enough to have 
been set and polished' by human hands, swells out slowly as he climbs, 
till at last it towers hundreds of feet above the general summit level, 
a solid battlement of weather-beaten granite or trap rock, sometimes 
in monstrous cubes, but oftener in broken and serrated pinnacles like 
saw-teeth, fully justifying the Spanish appellation of Sierra (a saw). 
From the streets of Georgetown the gulches Avhich divide the spurs 
into separate mining districts are barely visible; the face of the 
mountain l)etween the more abrupt cliffs is tolerably smooth, and ex- 
cept the slope towards the valley it seems that one might drive a 
wheeled carriage along its side, or that a stone once started would 
roll into the city. Once on that slope, however, and the marks are 
found to be gulches often a hundred feet in depth; and instead of the 
face of one mountain we appear to have a hundred narrow " hog- 
backs," in the sides of which are openings into the rock and tunnel 
workings invisible from below. 

Our party of seven sets out early, for our first ascent of Griffith 
Mountain will occupy half a day, and the first stage is up the face of 
a bare rock, eight hundred feet high, and barely broken enough to 
afford a foot-path ; thence by a more gentle trail along the foot of a 
granite cliff, which rises three hundred feet almost perpendicularly. 
And yet every yard on its front has been tried with the pick or 
sounded with the hammer, to see if it contained mineral : for in just 
such places have been found some of the richest mines of the district. 
A peculiar stain on the rock attracted attention. Men were let down 
from above to "prospect," a crevice was found with "blossom" rock, 
and often a platform anchored to the cliff till a more permanent foot- 
inir could be blasted out. The celebrated Stevens' Mine was reached 



480 



WESTERN WILDS. 




'THIS WAY AND THAT, IN ZIGZAGS, WE TOIL UP- 
WARD." 



by a rope ladder for months 
after being opened for work, 
and even now the workmen 
cling to a guide rope as they 
go up the trail, and the ore 
is sent down by a tramway. 
Yet its richness pays for the 
trouble. 

A few hundred feet along; 
this rock-hewn path bring 
us to the half-way gulch and 
a beautiful spring. Down 
this rock flume runs one of 
those brawling brooks which 
are the' delight of poets and 
artists ; and yet the mouth 
of the gulch, only half a 
mile below, is but a dry bed. 
Of all the streams that rise 
far up in the Rocky Mount- 
ains, not one in ten reaches 
any valley or joins another 
stream ; and all the streams 
of all this slope combined 
do not furnish the Platte 
water enough to last it a 
hundred miles from the 
mountains. Here we rest 
and refresh, tighten straps, 
and then climb out of the 
gulch and enter on a series 
of more gentle slopes, alter- 
nating pine groves and grass 
plats. This way and that, 
in zigzag paths, we toil uj)- 
ward, often leaning on our 
staves and resting every 
hundred yards or so, for at 
this point our breath begins 
to come short, and if any 
way delicate, we feel that 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 481 

fluttering of the heart and beating in the temples which result from 
an attenuated atmosphere. Here is the original home of the mount- 
ain sheep. On these grassy knolls they kept fat from August till 
January, and when Georgetown was first settled they were slaughtered 
here by hundreds. This mountain bunch-grass and the finer grass on 
the higher slopes furnished tjiem abundant feed till covered by the 
deep snows of January and February, as the snows are light here 
before that time. When the snow melted in April and May, all the 
sweetness left the grass, and the big-horn "lived on his fat'" till June 
o"r July again. Black-tailed deer, too, were plenty, and occasionally 
a grizzly bear made the solitudes lively; now these animals are rarely 
seen this side of the summit, though sheep horns can be picked up 
frequently, and adorn the front of many a miner's cabin. 

We toil slowly up over these knolls for an hour, at each turn the 
summit seeming just before us. The grassy region passed, we enter on 
the more rocky belt near the summit, and now mines are abundant 
and miners' cabins appear on every hand, sometimes built on a narrow 
flat, worked on the face of the slope, and again anchored with iron 
supports upon some projecting rock. At intervals we encounter pack 
trains coming down wdth ore, the little Mexican burros (donkeys) 
carrying immense rawhide panniers filled with the minerals, and near 
the summit encounter a party, consisting of one gentleman and three 
ladies, cautiously descending from the Highland Park. We see at a 
glance that they are Eastern people, as the resident ladies generally 
ride burros, sitting astride a sort of modified pack-saddle, but these 
have ponies and the Eastern side-saddle. The trail looks terrible, but 
horsemen sometimes get down this way, by walking in the worst 
places. 

It is three hours since we left the valley, and we stand at last on 
the edge of the tolerably level summit, but across a sort of meadow is 
the foot of the last rocky ridge, which still towers from five to fifteen 
hundred feet above us. But this serrated battlement is not contin- 
uous on these sub-ranges, which are mere spurs of the Rocky Mount- 
ains; it stands out rather in detached peaks, leaving between them 
large sections of the summit level, over which a vehicle might be 
driven without difficulty. Every miner's cabin is the house of a 
friend, and in the nearest we find some hot coffee to moisten our cold 
lunch ; then climb to the highest point, and with a good field-glass 
proceed to take views over a circuit of a hundred miles. Gray's and 
Torrey's peaks glisten through the clear air, seeming no morn 
than two or three miles away. To the north and south of them ex- 
31 



482 WESTERN WILDS. 

tends the main dividing range of the Rocky Mountains, now spotted 
dull gray and dazzling white by alternations of bare rock and gulches 
filled with snow. But the day, though beautiful and mild, is too hazy 
for us to see the Holy Cross. This is formed by two enormous rifts 
in the mountain side near the summit, crossing each other at right 
angles, and never bare of snow. The two white lines form an exact 
Greek cross, which glitters in the sunlight of a bright day, being 
thrown into bold relief by tlie dark gray face of the mountain. 

From our standpoint we look dow^n a thousand feet upon summits, 
which, from GeorgetoNvn, seem so high as almost to be lost in the 
clouds. But the greatest sight is to the eastward. For a hundred 
miles out from the base of the mountains the plains seem to rise, and 
the blue line which marks the visible horizon appears just on a level 
with our eyes. But the plains there are at least seven thousand feet 
lower than our location. This phenomenon I have often observed 
from commanding positions in the mountains, and can understand the 
statement of aeronauts, that as they rise the region directly under them 
seems to sink slowly into a basin, while the surrounding country re- 
mains on a level with them. 

The area we can thus survey with one quick glance now contains 
at least fifteen thousand miners and twice as many citizens and agri- 
culturists. In the year 1861 the site of central Georgetown was an 
immense beaver dam, the largest in this part of the Rocky Mount- 
ains, and known to trappers and Indians all over the country. Even 
now, on some of the loAvest lots in town, the effects of beaver work 
can be seen ; and the rich, mucky soil on the common shows that it 
was the bed of their pond for long series of years. The first pros- 
pectors who pitched their tent on Clear Creek amused themselves on 
many a moonlight evening by watching the beavers play. Then the 
mountain sheep crowded these glades in hundreds, and for months the 
early settlers had no other meat. The black-tailed deer came in about 
the season when mutton was scarce. The brown bear, and more 
rarely the grizzly, lived in the timber below us. Even now traces of 
these animals are met with frequently among the hills. Then, instead 
of the miner's cabin, or the mouth of shaft or tunnel, one might have 
seen the unscarred face of nature ; and in place of pack-trains laden 
with ore, or miners toiling up the steep trails, a band of Utes moving 
through the mountain passes, and sallying out upon the plains to at- 
tack their hereditary enemies, the Sioux and Arapahoes. Surely there 
was as much beauty in these scenes then as now. And yet how sel- 
dom the white men who saw this country, cultivated and intelligent as 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 483 

some of them ^Yere, speak of its sublime scenery. Their narratives are 
full, however, of allusions to scenes of blood and danger, to frowning 
precipices, w'here one misstep was destruction, and to lonely gorges 
where ambuslied savages might let fly upon the unwary traveler a 
shower of arrows. Only security and a touch of civilization enable 
us to appreciate wild beauty and grandeur. Small is the pleasure one 
can take in the brawling brook, when, stooping to taste its ice-cold 
waters, he is liable to get an arrow in his back ; in the wondrous 
canon walls, where ev'ery turn may reveal an enemy; in the sweep of 
the bald eagle, where the next occupation of that eagle may be in 
picking the meat from his bones, or in the antics of the "noble red 
man" w^hen that (supposed) nobility is his only security for life. 

The richest mineral region is on the mountains west and south-west 
of Georgetown. First is the Silver Plume group. There the Pay 
Rock has an eighteen-inch vein of ore, zinc blende, very rich in silver. 
Down hill therefrom is the celebrated group including the Dives, Dun- 
kirk and Pelican. These locations are stuck in so thick that the pat- 
ents overlap each other in all directions, and a completed map of all 
the claims looks like a picture of a pile of boards thrown at random on 
the ground, and half covering each other. Out of a little plat, per- 
haps half a mile long and a quarter wide, has come §10,000,000 w^orth 
of ore. The Dives alone shipped $640,000 worth in forty days ; and, 
pending certain legal proceedings, $90,000 worth was shipped between 
midnight Saturday and midnight Sunday. [An attachment can not be 
levied in Colorado on Sunday.] Besides paying enormous dividends, 
several of these mines keep two or three good lawyers in pay, and 
support expensive lawsuits. I am afraid to say how much actual cash 
has been paid out on the Dives- Pelican suit. The lowest guess here 
is $100,000, but it is probable a great deal has changed hands very 
quietly, and without knowledge of the public. 

Two hundred feet below is the Baxter, famous for its w'ire silver, of 
which I have seen specimens that looked like a " witch-ball," or mass 
of tangled hair turned to pure silver. Of course there is not much 
of that sort of stuff, and where it appears on the face of rich rock 
it looks as if it had stewed out of the stone and curled from intense 
heat. Most of it is found in bunches lining the inside of little pock- 
ets in the stone, and projecting from a streaked rock we used to call 
in Utah "■ polygamy lime rock." To discover a mine in that neigbor- 
hood -was nothing; the great trouble was to sink a shaft down to 
where the ore was concentrated, and then put up the machinery neces- 
sary to work it. Some of these mines originally sold for a trifle, com- 



484 WESTERN WILDS. 

paratively; then the buyers had to spend $40,000 in development, 
since when they have paid for themselves a dozen times over. The 
Pelican Mine extends directly across Cherokee Gulch and on to 
Sherman Mountain. A little beyond are the Maine, Coldstream, 
Phoenix, Scotia and Captain Wells, merely different claims along the 
same vein, all very rich, and supposed to be a continuation of the 
same ore-channel as the Pelican-Dives. Half a mile or more along 
the steep face of Sherman Mountain, barely passable by a foot trail, 
brings us to Brown Gulch, and beyond it Brown Mountain. Directly 
across the gulch are several valuable mines. Near the top are the 
Hercules and Seven-thirty. After innumerable lawsuits and fights, 
the killing of one man and wounding of two others, the claimants of 
these two locations compromised interests, and sold both for $180,000. 
Now, under the name of East Row, it is paying handsomely. Down 
the hill-side, and also crossing the gulch, is the Brown Mine, which 
has paid for itself half a dozen times over. Still lower — in fact, only 
three or four hundred feet above Clear Creek — is the celebrated Ter- 
rible, probably the best managed mine in the district, though far from 
being the richest. It was bought of the locators by a company in 
Cornwall, England, for $500,000, and yielded $150,000 annually, 
varying but little from one year to another. 

Successful mining in Colorado is of necessity deep mining. Rare, 
indeed, are the cases in which good pay rock is reached at less than a 
hundred feet, and in many mines the best is not reached under four or 
five hundred feet. As a rule, the larger the vein is the farther it is down 
to where all the ore in it is concentrated into one rich seam ; for the 
force which made the seam of ore seems to have been weakened or dis- 
sipated as it drew near the surface, and a seam three feet thick at a 
depth of three hundred feet will often be scattered in twenty little ir- 
regular strings toward the surface. The Dives is by no means a 
large lode, but they sunk on it two hundred feet before they found 
the ore concentrated in one seam. The ore body may aptly be com- 
pared to a tree, which, as it rises, continually divides and subdivides, 
running out at last to twigs ; so the ore-seam scatters until, at the sur-j 
face, the prospector finds a hundred little lines or stems of mineral 
scattered over a wide space. Hence it is that silver mining here re- 
quires both nerve and patience, for it takes time to get down to the 
ore in this hard rock, where " three shifts" make but six or seven feet 
a week. 

The curiosities of mining are almost endless. Here and there on 
the edge of rich ore-seams little accretions of almost pure silver have 



THE CENTENNIAL STA TE. 485 

run together, like " leaf lard/' as it were, and, according to its purity, 
or the chemicals mixed in it, such "nibs" are known as chloride, horn 
silver, ruby silver, azurite or tetrahedrite. A change of one-tenth of 
one per cent, in the chemical will sometimes change entirely the color 
and texture of the ore. "Black-jack," or zinc blende, is a very troub- 
lesome combination. Chunks of it are found, which assay live hun- 
dred ounces of silver per ton, but its reduction is very difficult and 
expensive. Azurite is a combination of silver with blue carbonates of 
copper, and yields all the way from three hundred to a thousand 
ounces of silver per ton Every year lower grade ores can be profita- 
bly worked, with the improvement in methods and cheapening of 
transportation. When this district w^as opened, in 1864, ore must 
yield a hundred ounces per ton to be worth working; now thirty- 
ounce ore can be profitably treated. The laws as to title in silver 
mines are now pretty well settled; but no law that Congress or 
Territorial Legislature could pass has prevented men who stayed on 
the ground from getting title to thousands of "feet" in mines. The 
laws also say something about the preemptor being of voting age ; but 
by " unwritten law" any able-bodied lad of sixteen and upward, who 
can do the required work, can preempt sufficiently to sell out to an 
adult, who can perfect the title. A shrewd lawyer, of course, might 
pick flaws in the inchoate title; but it would be unhealthy to do so if 
the boy had any friends. Various laws, lately enacted, give title in 
width also, allowing a hundred and fifty feet on each side of a claim 
for working purposes. But each county is allowed to limit this by 
popular vote, and many counties do. Thus it wall be seen that origi- 
nal location, preemption and sale, and each successive transfer, being 
recorded in the old district records, now legalized as part of the county 
records, these titles are just as susceptible of proof as those of a 

farm. 

Over the sub-range which bounds Georgetown on the north-west, 
through a lofty region of forests, parks and mountain meads, and over 
another more gentle range, brings us to Xorth Clear Creek Canon, 
where gold was first discovered. The gold placers have long since 
yielded in prominence to silver lodes. On the old Gregory claim is 
now part of Central City, the historic town of Colorado. There 
sprung up a rattling "city" of logs and rough-sawed plank during 
the week that Horace Greeley was inspecting the mines in 1859 ; and 
there, for a time, was the territorial capital, until the sudden and 
amazing growth of Denver overshadowed all the mountain towns, and 
absorbed all the Federal fat things. Mining in the old Gregory dis- 



486 WESTERN WILDS. 

trict has long since passed out of the era of romantic uncertainty and 
excitement to that of reguhir work and legitimate investment. An- 
other day's journey to the northward, over the eastern slope of the 
mountains, and through a region rich with scenic interest, brings us 
to Caribou, Nederland, and all that rich region at the head of Bowl- 
der Creek. Caribou, ten thousand feet above the level of the sea, on 
a gentle slope, and in the midst of a dense pine forest, was the most 
delightful of new mining towns when I visited it in August, 1874. 

Of course that part of Colorado whicli drains eastward is much the 
best known and developed, but beyond the main range are many new 
and promising mining camps, as Leadville and the San Juan District, 
Avhich seem to lie across the very center of the great upheaval that, 
perhaps, made the mines. In every district are ten times as many 
locations as will ever be developed, and ten thousand hopes that will 
never be realized; for, despite his plain surroundings, the miner is the 
most romantic and imaginative of men. But his is a singularly unro- 
mantic work. It implies cold, dirt and wet, possibility of sudden 
death, probability of severe injury, soon or late, and certainty of sore 
trial and frequent disappointments. The history of a silver mine in- 
cludes these stages : prospecting, locating, opening, developing and 
working — and at every step in development the chances of final failure 
are many. Thus it has been well and truly said that mining is a lot- 
tery, but it should still be remembered that this applies only to finding 
and developing mines. Once it has depth sufficient to prove it, and 
has opened into a regular vein, a mine is as certain as any property in 
the world. But on the surface, where the prospector makes his loca- 
tion according to the " indications," there is no science that enables 
him to judge what it will prove on depth. That he must learn by 
digging, and many arc the alternations of hope and fear as he goes 
down. First a little " pocket " of rich sulphurets raises his hopes to 
fever heat, then comes a " cap " of barren rock, and down they go to 
zero ; next, perhaps, he finds the vein widening, with here and there a 
" nib " of chloride, azurite or ruby silver, and straightway his spirits 
mount as on eagle's wings; again he encounters a " pinch " or " cap," 
and hope almost dies out ere he gets through it. Sometimes he fol- 
lows a " pinching vein," scarcely thicker than a knife-blade, for many 
a week, at an expense of fifteen dollars a foot, hoping that it will lead 
him to the main vein. At last, at the depth of one hundred feet or 
more, his varying crevice either opens into the main vein and rewards 
him a thousand fold for all his toil, or, as it does in nine cases out of 
ten, it ends in barren rock, beyond which there is no thoroughfare, 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 487 

proving it to be a dip, spur, dropper, gash vein or any one of the 
thousand things which mislead the miner. Not one location in twenty 
is ever pushed to the depth of a hundred feet ; of those so pushed not 
more than one in ten proves a valuable mine, and even of tolerably 
valuable mines not one in twenty proves a Caribou, Pelican, Dives 
or a Corastock. But if every location w^ere as valuable as the owner 
thinks it to be when he first starts down on it, silver would soon 
cease to be a precious metal. We miglit manufacture it into door- 
hinges. 

As a rule only the developed and proved mines are bought by East- 
ern companies, but in the great speculative era of 1864-66, Colorado 
was literally sold out to New York capitalists, who took stock in the 
future with amazing readiness. Thirty-eight companies were organ- 
ized, with an aggregate capital of $24,000,000 ! And this when all 
the mines in the Territory were not worth the half of that sum. 
Hundreds of mere "prospect holes" were purchased at high figures, 
and mills were erected to work the ore before the buyers knew of 
wdiat kind it was, or whether there was one ton or a million. The 
era of mad speculation has given place to that of practical mining, 
and Colorado has advanced to an annual yield in ore and bullion of 
from $12,000,000 to $15,000,000. 

Colorado is divided nearly down the center by the main chain of 
the Rocky Mountains— or, in miner's phrase, " saddle-backed across 
the rano-e." West of the summit not one acre in a thousand is fit for 
any thing but grazing. As depressions in the summit appear the great 
parks, a curious and attractive feature of Colorado. As summer re- 
treats and grazing grounds, they will ultimately be of great value. 
The slope eastward from the mountains is the pasture land of the new 
State. The whole section is being rapidly dotted with ranches, and 
all kinds of stock thrive on the nutritious grasses. But it is only on 
the low land along the streams that farming can be carried on. 

At the heads of the Fontaine Que Bouille and other tributaries of 
the Arkansas, bounteous nature seems to have exhausted her powers 
in the way of scenery and climate. There the sheltered valleys open- 
ing to the south are green early in the year; there reluctant summer 
lingers longest, and glad spring hastens to return. The hot pools, the 
vast reservoirs and bubbling fountains of soda, the medicinal springs, 
the wooded parks, the gateway to the mountains and the Garden of 
the Gods afford unfailing delight. Over all rises Pike's Peak, out- 
lined against a sky of dazzling blue, landmark for a hundred miles 
in every direction. Around the heads of all the streams that feed the 



488 WESTERN WILDS. 

Arkansas are the finest bunch-grass pastures, on which feed vast herds 
of sheep and cattle. 

The valley of the Arkansas is fertile some distance eastward. But 
a little south the scene changes suddenly, and the extreme south-east- 
ern part of the Territory lies in that great desert which includes all 
the neighboring portions of Texas, New Mexico, Kansas and the In- 
dian Territory. There the water-holes are few and far between ; the 
thorny mezquit alone can be said to adorn the landscape, and the region 
can only be crossed at the risk of death from thirst. On the south- 
ern edge of this desert my friend, Thad. Buckman, took refuge in a 
mezquit thicket from the Arapahoes, and, though previously noted for 
his modesty, when he got out of there, with his skin hanging in 
ribands, he was the worst stuck-up man in the Rocky Mountains. 
Every bush has a thorn and every insect a sting ; all the Indians are 
hostile, and if one should meet a white man, the chances are even that 
he is an involuntary exile and a cattle thief. The principal pro- 
ductions are mezquit, tarantulas and centipedes. 

The Arkansas was formerly the northern boundary of Mexico, and 
across this desert marched, in 1843, from their rendezvous on that 
stream, one of the many Texan expeditions against Santa Fe. Its mem- 
bers are now glorified on annual San Jacinto days as noble and devoted 
patriots to whom dishonor were worse than death ; but I am afraid they 
would not know themselves in that character. They arrived almost 
dead from starvation at the Mexican settlements, and, having supplied 
themselves, found that Governor Armijo had warning of their ap- 
proach; accordingly they marched back and disbanded. After a 
brief rest a new party was organized, numbering a hundred and eighty, 
which found a little better route over the desert, and came up with 
the Mexican forces while in fighting condition. Texan histories, in 
florid. South-western rhetoric, describe the daring charge and furious 
onslaught of the little army, the fierce conflict and bloody victory, add- 
ing in confirmation that the Texans lost two men — wounded ! I heard 
while in Texas that one of the two cut his fingers accidentally with a 
bowie-knife. Pity those historians had not taken a lesson from Ccesar's 
Commentaries — that to praise the enemy's bravery is to exalt the victor. 

Turning back from the South-eastern desert to the foot of the mount- 
ains, fertility increases with every mile, until we are again among the rich 
pastures and mountain meadows along the heads of the streams. Thus 
it will be seen that Colorado is naturally divisible into four great sec- 
tions; twenty thousand square miles of complete barrenness, whether 
of mountain or desert; fifty thousand square miles of plain and valley, 



THE CENTENNIAL STATE. 489 

fit only for grazing; an unknown area rich in mines, and perhaps two 
thousand square miles of agricultural land. On the grazing lands 
cattle and sheep are multiplying by hundreds of thousands yearly. It 
is estimated that Eastern Colorado will afibrd abundant pasturage for 
two million sheep and cattle. Facilities for manufacturing exist on 
every mountain stream, and great attention is being paid to the pro- 
duction of fine wools. 

Farther up in the mountains the few cultivable plats require no ir- 
rigation. From a summer's residence at Georgetown I am convinced 
that three times as much rain falls there as at Denver. But elevation 
is a great hindrance to crops. Wheat can be produced at an altitude 
of 6,000 feet, oats at 7,000, rye at 7,500, and near Central City I have 
seen potatoes yielding bounteously at 9,000 feet. Colorado flour has 
attained a w^orld-wide celebrity. Enthusiastic prophets speak of re- 
claiming all the barren plains, but I respectfully submit that it is im- 
possible, unless the climate changes. All the streams in Eastern Col- 
orado would not supply irrigation for a strip across the Territory ten 
miles wide. The high plains are irreclaimable by any process w'hich 
would be remunerative, and must continue for many centuries to be 
the herd-grounds of the West. 

What, then, are the possibilities of Colorado? If the pressure of 
population is to be no greater than in the Ohio Valley, I estimate it 
as follows : 200,000 engaged in agriculture and mining, and as many 
in stock-ranching, manufacturing and commerce. But the floating, 
or rather visiting, population wdll always be large. Colorado's beau- 
ties are of a kind that art can not mar. No amount of "improve- 
ment" can lessen the grandeur of her peaks, the romance of her se- 
cluded canons, the reviving air and inspiring scenery of her wonder- 
ful parks ; time will only more fully demonstrate the value of her 
mineral springs, and in her Western Wilds many successive genera- 
tions of sportsmen will find health and relaxation. 

In general intelligence Colorado is not surpassed by any com- 
munity in the world. Dullards and desperadoes do not build up such 
a commonwealth as this. A hundred thousand people who have cre- 
ated in eighteen years a wealth of fifty millions, and now add fifteen 
millions annually to the national treasure; who support a score of 
daily and weekly papers; who organized civil government out of 
social chaos, and have grown to Statehood with so little trouble to 
the nation, may be trusted to govern themselves wisely in the future. 
Whether in material or moral greatness, we may be justly proud of 
our Centennial State. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE MORMON MURDERERS. 

In September, 1874, I resumed my residence in Salt Lake City, and 
there remained one year — part of the time as Clerk of the Supreme 
Court of Utah, the remainder as assistant editor of the Daily Tribune. 
The sensation of that autumn was the capture and imprisonment of 
John D. Lee; of the next summer, his arraignment and trial. In the 
two years after I left him at his stronghold on the Colorado, he had 
grown bolder and visited the nearest settlements Avithout disguise, 
fully persuaded that all the Mormons were as devoted to his safety as 
they had shown themselves to be fifteen years before. But he was 
mistaken. While he enjoyed the society of some of his younger 
wives at Panguitch, on the Sevier River, some one conveyed a hint to 
the United States Marshal at Beaver, and a scheme was at once con- 
certed for the capture of the murderer. 

Marshal Owens, with a posse of five men, set out from Beaver just 
after dark, and by night marches, lying concealed in the timl)er by 
day, came upon Panguitch just after daylight. But cautious as he had 
been, before he got into town word was conveyed to Lee, and the lat- 
ter had time to hide. Once in the town the Marshal and posse found 
a dense ignorance prevailing. Nobody knew whether John D. Lee 
had a wife there, or where she lived, or what name she went by. 
Enraged at this general collusion with the criminal, the posse seized a 
small boy, who afterwards proved to be Lee's son, and threatened him 
with death unless he directed them to the house. The little Mormon 
gazed calmly at his captor, then at the pistol in the latter's hand, and 
said, "Shoot away, d — n ye; I don't know nothin' about it." Had 
not all the roads been guarded, the murderer could even then have 
escaped. Meanwhile the sun rose and the citizens went about their 
daily tasks ; but it was evident that a few were all the time within 
easy reach of the posse, and that a word from the bishop or ruling 
elder of the place would have precipitated a bloody fight. Fortu- 
nately the right house was found before there was time for consultation 
among the criminals. The nest was warm, but the bird had flown. 
In the cow-yard was an old shed ; the under logs had been pulled out, 

(490) 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 



491 



and the roof was now only four or five feet from the ground and cov- 
ered with straw. It looked like a shapeless heap of straw, but was a 
hog-pen and chicken-coop. As long as the posse searched the house 
the women were passive enough ; but when Marshal Owens com- 
menced examining this straw pile, the older one hastily grabbed a 
gun. That settled it. 

" He's here," said the Marshal, quietly, and the pen was surrounded. 




<^^^ 




CAPTUKK OF JOHN D. LEK 

The woman had been disarmed, but Lee's retainers were flocking in 
from all sides. A cordon of Mormons already surrounded the house 
and cow-yard. The women seemed to be urging them on, and a few 
of them came forward to the pen. It was discovered that Lee had 
thirty sons, sons-in-law and grandsons in Panguitch, besides some 
wives and more distant relations. The posse numbered but five. 

Marshal Owens gazed long and earnestly into the little dark hole, 
the only entrance to the pen ; and when his eyes grew accustomed to 
the darkness, he saw a greenish, glaring pair confronting him from 
the black corner. Here was his man— but how to get him? Deter- 
mined not to risk his men's lives, the Marshal directed them to cut 
into the straw pile at the rear, while he would keep watch, and if the 
man made a motion, would shoot. At these words the inside man 
exclaimed : 

" Don't shoot, boys. I'll come out." And he did. 

Once secured, Lee grew nnnaturally social and even merry. He 
nrged the posse to come into the house, and ordered his wives to <;ook 
breakfast for all parties immediately. But the Gentiles did not feel so 



492 WESTERN WILDS. * 

merry. The %vhole town appeared to be concentrating in that vicinity. 
It was evident the place contained at least seventv-five fitrhtino; men, 
and that they only waited a signal from Lee, or some one else, to 
begin. Directing his men to keep their weapons in constant readi- 
ness, and placing two of them as a special guard over Lee, the Mar- 
shal informed that worthy that the first move towards a rescue would 
be the signal for his instant death. The signal was not given. The 
j)osse ate breakfast, silently and in haste, and departed for the hills, 
the whole population waiting and watching. By forced marches the 
Gentiles reached Beaver next morning, and John D. Lee soon reposed 
in the strong room at Camp Cameron with fifty pounds of iron on his 
person. 

Before entering on the details of his trial it is necessary to give 
some particulars oT the crime, a thousand times told, for which he 
finally suffered. It was the result of three motives, prominent in the 
order named: revenge, lust for plunder and fanaticism. When the 
Latter-day Saints left Illinois, 20,000 strong, they hurled back apos- 
tolic curses at the whole Gentile nation. That nation, they said, had 
rejected the gospel by the murder of the Prophet and Patriarch, and 
should perish in its sins. In the Rocky Mountains the Saints would 
establish a kingdom, and in due time take vengeance on their enemies. 
In the endowment oaths, every true Mormon was sworn to avenge the 
death of Joseph Smith. A peculiar system of diplomacy and attempt 
to establish a theocracy in the States, had brought the Saints into con- 
flict with the Americans, and now that conflict was made the means 
of uniting them more solidly against the Gentile world. With the 
doctrine of a temporal kingdom came in the long train of Hebraic 
similes: the Church was in bondage in Egypt; it was in the wilder- 
ness of Zin; it was to overthrow the Amalekites (Missourians), and 
repeat all the wonderful achievements in the fruitful annals of Israel. 
And as the Amalekites resisted, and many Mormons grew disaffected, 
all the bloody devices of the ancient Hebrews w^ere legalized, and thus 
Mormonism became the terrible thing it was in 1856 and '57. 

When they first settled in Utah they determined their government 
should be a pure theocracy, but it w'as necessary to have some form 
which the United States would recognize, to give jurisdiction over 
Gentiles who might pass through or tarry in Zion. A State govern- 
ment was agreed upon. Its boundaries were declared to be from 
the summit of the Sierras to that of the Rocky Mountains, and from 
latitude 42° down to the Mohave Desert and divide of the Colorado 
plateau; it contained all the present Utah and Nevada, with consider- 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 493 

able portions of Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado and Arizona. The prop- 
osition carried by a unanimous vote (all propositions do in the Mor- 
mon Church), and the heads of the theocracy were in like manner 
elected chiefs in the "State of Deseret:" Brigham Young, Governor; 
Daniel H. Wells, Chief Justice and Lieutenant-General; the Twelve 
Apostles divided the Judgeships and State officers among them; the 
State Senate was made up of Presiding Bishops, the House of inferior 
Bishops and Elders, and the local officers in counties were appointed 
according to priestly rank. This queer institution ran a year. The 
Legislature immediately assembled and divided the whole adjacent 
territory into grants; the timber, streams, pasture lands, and valleys 
were given to the heads of the Church ; they in turn parceled them 
out, each to his laity, and thus color of title was established to all the 
land in Utah of any value. As Brigham pithily said, " If there's 
nothing for the d — d Gentiles to settle on, they can't settle." And 
they didn't. 

Congress, in the long and memorable session of 1850, cut up our 
new possessions into various governments, and, among others, estab- 
lished the Territory of Utah — about two and a half times as large as 
it is now ; of which Territory President Fillmore, with his customary 
sense of propriety, appointed Brigham Young Governor ! Immedi- 
ately the whole State machinery of Deseret was floated on to the new 
government. As far as the Organic Act of Utah gave power, all the 
old officials were chosen in the new system; the Legislature re-assem- 
bled, sat six months (its expenses were now paid from Washington), 
confirmed in bulk most of the legislation of "Deseret," and divided 
up all the valleys which had since been discovered. Thus began that 
remarkable interlock of church and state, the most perfect .despotism 
of modern times, which lasted unbroken for twenty years — until Judge 
McKean and his colleagues made the first breach, in 1870. 

The average citizen can have no conception of the empire obtained 
by this theocracy over the minds and fortunes of its subjects. Three 
concurrent governments took charge of every detail of common life: 
the territorial or civil of all affiiirs concerning Gentiles, or cases be- 
tween Gentile and Mormon ; the ecclesiastical of all religious ques- 
tions; and the Church civil system of all the industries and commerce 
of the people. Brigham was Prophet and Seer in the ecclesiastical ; 
First President in the industrial and civil ; for seven years Governor 
in the territorial government, and long afterwards virtual dictator of 
the policy of his successors. The same man in an outer settlement was 
Judge under the Territory, Bishop under the Church, and "President 



494 WESTERN WILDS. 

of the Stake" in the civil and industrial organization. John D. Lee 
was Bishop of one settlement, President of a "stake" or commune, 
Major of the county militia, Representative of the same county in the 
Legislature, official Indian interpreter, the husband of eighteen wives, 
and father, from first to last, of sixty-four children. Isaac Haight, his 
colleague in murder, was likewise a Bishop, a Captain in the militia, 
member of the council (upper house of the Territorial Legislature), 
husband of four wives, and father of numerous children. Wm. H. 
Dame was Colonel of the regiment ordered out to commit the mas- 
sacre, and Bishop of Parowan, and held numerous minor offices. Higby, 
probably the most blood-thirsty of the lot, was an inferior Elder, a 
Captain in the militia, and generally held some executive office under 
the Territory. Bill Stewart, who boasted for years after the massacre 
that he " took the d — d Gentile babies by the heels and cracked their 
skulls over the wagon tires," was only a private in the ranks, but for 
years before and after the massacre a member of the Church in good 
standing, as were all the other murderers down to the very day the 
United States officers chased them into the mountains. And yet there 
are good souls who maintain that the Mormon Church bears no moral 
responsibility for this massacre. 

Had an inferior officer of our army, when camped before Washing- 
ton, gone into the country and massacred the people of a Virginia 
village without regard to age or sex, and had General Grant not only 
overlooked the offijnse, but promoted the offi?nder, the world would 
have resounded -with denunciations. Yet the control General Grant 
had over his army was laxity itself compared with that Brigham 
Young had over Mormondom. To say that these men, of their own 
motion, and without a hint from head-quarters, did such a deed, is to 
say what every old resident of Utah knows to be a transparent false- 
hood. For fifteen years these men had never once followed their own 
minds in any matter of importance. One must take "counsel of the 
priesthood " on all occasions, whether he would go abroad or remain 
at home, open a farm, or go into trade, buy a cow or take an extra 
wife. There was no corner of the mountains so remote but some 
theocratic arm reached it. There were no walls high enough or thick 
enough to shut out church spies; there was no domestic confidence 
that was safe, for the ward teachers were expressly instructed to visit 
weekly every family in their jurisdiction, and "examine the man apart 
from his w'ife and the wife apart from the man, to the end that heresy 
may be rooted out." To say that this was \he first crime of these men 
is to say what every lawyer knows to be folly. Criminals are not 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 495 

made in a clay. Men do not become utter and conscienceless villains 
just for one occasion. Whole communities do not suddenly turn to 
assassins. Starkie and Greenleaf teach a sounder philosophy of crime. 
The whole previous life-time of the Mormon Church was no more than 
enough to educate men to such action. 

Perhaps all these causes would not have been sufficient, but the year 
1856 was full of disaster and incitements to fanaticism. The Church 
leaders had determined that immigrants from Europe should walk 
from the Missouri to Salt Lake City, and trundle hand-carts loaded 
with their baggage ; and the first attempt resulted in frightful suffering 
and three hundred deaths. This dire calamity appeared to excite an 
epidemic madness in Utah. 

The "Reformation" which had already set in, now became a verita- 
ble reign of terror. The doctrine of " blood atonement," or killing 
men to save their souls, was taught by Brigham Young, Orson Hyde, 
and others. In all the sermons of that period one will not find 
twenty quotations from the New Testament, but every page is red 
with the bloody maxims of the Mosaic code. 

Meanwhile, Parley P. Pratt, "Isaiah of the Latter-day Church," 
was killed in Arkansas by Hector McLean, whose Avife Pratt had 
taken away some time before. To the Gentiles this would seem but 
the rash act of an outraged husband; to the Mormons it appeared the 
murder of an able apostle, who had obeyed the " celestial laws,'' iu 
taking another man's wife. The spring of 1857 found the Mormon 
community in a mixed state of fanatic enthusiasm, grief for the lost, 
zeal for the cause, and fierce anger against the whole American race. 
While in this state the news arrived that President Buchanan had re- 
moved Brigham Young from the Governorship, and determined to 
station a part of the army in Utah. The immediate consequences 
were frightful. 

A. yell of rage and defiance sounded from one end of the Territory 
to the other. The few American officials who remained slipped out at 
once. Dr. Hurt, Indian agent, did not trust the roads, but was 
piloted through the mountains by the Utes. All the apostates who 
could do so fled at once. The rest held their peace, or outdid the 
orthodox in their zeal. Several frightful murders and still more 
frightful mutilations took place. To deprive a dangerous man of 
virility Avas regarded almost as a joke. Dozens of cases are known to 
have occurred between 1856 and 1863 — those being the years in 
which the "blood atonement" doctrine was preached. All opposition 
v.vas silenced, and the peo]}le were hot for war. Wheat was dried and 



496 WESTERN WILDS. 

cached in the mountains prcpanitory to a guerrilla war; and every 
able-bodied male was under arms. Brigham issued a proclamation 
warning all emigrants out of the Territory, and announced in a ser- 
mon that if they came, he "would turn the Indians loose on them." 
While things were in this state, the doomed train arrived in Salt Lake 
City. 

It was, perhaps, the richest train that ever crossed the plains. 
There were half a dozen or more wealthy old gentlemen from Mis- 
souri and Arkansas, with their sons, sons-in-law and their several 
families, including a large number of young ladies; also a few young 
men from Vermont, a German doctor and man of science, two lads from 
some Eastern city, and a son of Dr. Aden, of Kentucky. All the 
Missouri and Arkansas people were related by blood, and when they 
were killed a whole clan, so to speak, was cut off. The recovered 
children, in many instances, could find no relations. There were forty 
wagons, several hundred horses and cattle, a piano, some elegant car- 
riages, several riding horses for the young ladies, and an irrimense 
amount of jewelry, clothing, and minor articles. The value of 
the booty taken has been estimated all the way from $150,000 to 
^300,000. 

Seeing that they were in a hostile country they hastened on ; but as 
they advanced southward from Salt Lake (they were going to Los 
Angeles), they found the people steadily more hostile. They were 
denied passage through some of the towns, and had to make a detour 
on the desert; they could purchase no provisions, and found that in 
spite of themselves they were constantly violating municipal ordi- 
nances, and liable to arrest. At Beaver they were joined by a Mis- 
sourian who had been in custody among the Mormons; he urged them 
to hurry on as they valued their lives. Passing through Cedar City it 
is believed they saw signs of their coming danger and redoubled their 
exertions to get beyond the Utah limits. At last they reached the 
glen known as Mountain Meadows, on the "divide" between the 
waters flowing into the Great Basin and those draining into the Colo- 
rado, and paused to recruit their stock before entering on the Muety- 
Mile Desert. 

Meanwhile some secret work, not yet fully explained, had been 
going on at Salt Lake City. There is some evidence that a plan was 
once agreed upon to have the emigrants killed as they crossed the 
Provo "bench," only forty miles from Salt Lake; but it was finally 
thought best to let them get beyond the settlements. George A. Smith, 
Brigham's First Councillor, w^ent south ahead of the party, forbidding 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 497 

the people to sell them any grain; and some lawyers, who have exam- 
ined the evidence, think he planned the massacre, as he then held mili- 
tary command of all the Territory south of Provo. Down to this 
point all agree upon the facts; what follows rests upon testimony from 
many sources : 

Philip Klingcnsmith, Mormon Bishop and participant in the crime, 
who fled to Nevada, made a full confession, and was the main witness 
on the trial ; Joel White, a private in the militia, also present at the 
massacre, unwillingly, as he claims; one Hawley, a lad, also present; 
several boys who assisted in burying the dead; Robert Keyes, who 
saw the dead soon after, and was familiar with the local accounts; 
Asahel Ben net, who visited the scene and saw the dead; the confes- 
sion of Spencer, a school teacher in St. George, who died of grief and 
remorse for his share in the act; Albert, an Indian boy, who was 
herding sheep for Jacob Hamlin, in the upper end of the Meadows ; 
several Indian chiefs who assisted at the massacre ; Mrs. Ann Eliza 
Hoge, a French Mormon woman, '^ plural wife" of one of the leaders, 
who was present at the "councils" where the death of the emigrants 
was determined upon ; the various confessions of John D. Lee, and a 
mass of collateral testimony. The evidence is conclusive as to the fol- 
lowing facts : 

The day after the emigrants passed Harmony, John D. Lee, Bishop 
and President, called a council and stated that he had received com- 
mand "to follow and attack the accursed Gentiles, and let the arrows 
of the Almighty drink their blood." He stated that they were from 
Missouri, which had expelled God's people, and from Arkansas, which 
had sanctioned the murder of the apostle; he recited the Hawn's Mill 
massacre of Mormons, the murder of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, and 
others, and called for an affirmative vote. All hands were held up, 
and the expedition was at once fitted out. Lee turned out the Indians 
under his charge, who surrounded the emigrants and prevented their 
going on, while a regular call was made on the county militia by 
Col. W. H. Dame, Major John D. Lee, and Captains Haight and 
Higby. The siege lasted eight days, during which a few emigrants 
were killed. 

Some men living in the vicinity testify that they were ordered out 
as militia; others that they went at command of the Bishop, and still 
others that they were asked to go but managed to avoid it. Two men 
say that they sat inside the wall of a garden all night, talking and 
praying while the wagons carrying supplies ran back and forward; 
that they wept and asked the forgiveness of God if they were about 
32 



498 



WESTERN WILDS. 



to do wrong, but finally had to go along with their company of mi- 
litia. When all were collected at the Meadows, on the eighth day of 
the siege, Lee and some others bore a flag of truce to the emigrants, 
and arranged for their surrender. They were to give up every thing, 
including their arms, be taken back to the settlement and taken care 
of, but held till the war was over. On this agreement they started 
on their return. There were sixty fighting men, forty women, and 
forty-eight children. In front were two wagons, driven by Mormons 
and containing the men wounded in the siege ; behind them were the 
women and children, and lastly the men. Beside the men marched 




MOUNTAIN MKADOW MASSACRE. 



the Mormon militia in single file. Off on either side were mounted 
men to intercept any who might break through the lines. A hollow 
crosses the road there; on each side of the way as it enters the hollow 
are rocks and bushes where the Indians lay in ambush. As testified 
to by one witness, the women talked joyfully of their rescue from 
the Indians, and thanked God that they were under the protection of 
white men. 

All was in readiness. As the wagons passed the gully and the 
women and children were just entering it, Ike Higbee, standing on the 
bluff above, waved his hand as a signal. Haight gave command: 
Halt! fire!! On the instant the Mormon militia turned, and with 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 499 

their guns almost touching their victims, discharged one volley, and 
almost every man of the emigrants fell dead. With loud screams the 
women and children turned and ran back toward the men. The In- 
dians and Mormons rushed upon them, shooting, stabbing, braining, 
and in twenty minutes six score of Americans lay dead upon the 
ground, the hapless victims of Mormonism. No circumstance of hor- 
ror was lacking. Indians and Mormons bit and tore the rings from 
the fingers and ears of the women, and with insulting yells trampled 
on the faces of the dying. 

One girl knelt and begged a son of John D. Lee for life. He hesi- 
tated, but the father pushed him aside, and shot her through the 
head. Several broke through the line, but were killed by the 
mounted men. Two girls ran down the gully and over the ridge, to 
the slope where the Indian boy Albert was hid, to watch the mas- 
sacre. He says that they begged him to save them, and he directed 
them where to hide in a thicket. The next minute John D. Lee and 
Bill Stewart came galloping across the hollow, and, with savage 
curses, ordered him to point out the runaAvays. He dared not diso- 
bey, and soon the girls were dragged out. Kneeling to Lee, they 
poured out the most passionate prayers for mercy — they would be his 
slaves, would never betray him, would work for him forever. While 
one clung to his knees he jerked her suddenly upon her back, and, 
placing his knee upon her breast, cut her throat from ear to ear! The 
other had, meanwhile, run away. He overtook her, and, by a savage 
blow on the back of the head with a ragged stone, crushed in her 
skull. Both these bodies were missed by the burying party, and, 
strange to say, lay there ten days untouched by the wolves. When 
Hamlin returned from Salt Lake City, Albert pointed them out, and 
they were buried. Hamlin adds that there was not the mark of a 
tooth on either body, and no sign of decay, so pure was the air. 
Their fair countenances were like those of persons just dead, and their 
handsome forms untouched by the beasts and birds of prey. Nature 
and the wild beasts of the mountain were kinder to them than men 
of their own race and color. 

Mrs. Hamlin, wife of Jacob Hamlin above mentioned, before her 
death gave this account : 

" A Mormon woman, far advanced in pregnancy, was at Hamlin's ; 
her husband was driving one of the wagons containing the wounded, 
having been ordered on that duty by Bishop Klingensmith. When 
the massacre began this man took a fit, and soon died of excitement 
or fright. When the bloody wagon, containing the children and the 



500 WEf^TERN WILDS. 

dead body of her husband, was brought to Hamlin's, this woman went 
into a spasm, prematurely gave birth to a child, then became insane, 
and lingered twelve years a raving maniac." The driver of the other 
wagon says that besides children and wounded men he hud in his 
wagon a venerable old man, with long white beard, richly dressed, and 
evidently a man of consequence among the emigrants. He insists that 
this old man jumped out of the front end of the wagon, got into the 
bushes, and was never captured. None of the burying party could 
ever find his body. Possibly the poor old man wandered awhile in 
the mountains, afraid to approach any settlement, and either died of 
want in some lonely place or was killed by the Indians. 

One witness — a lad at the time, and present with the militia — says 
that when they came tp look over the ground he found one woman 
only stunned and recovering consciousness. Bill Stewart ordered him 
to kill her at once. 

"Never!'* was his reply. "I've got none of this blood on my 
soul, and don't intend to have any." 

Stewart cursed him for a coward, then stepped behind the woman 
who had risen to her feet, and drove a bowie-knife to the hilt in her 
side. 

Three men escaped the general massacre. The night before the 
closing scene the party first became convinced that white men were 
besieging them. They then drew up a paper addressed to the Masons, 
Odd Fellows, Baptists, and Methodists of the States, " and to all good 
people every-where," in which they stated their condition, and im- 
plored help if there was time; if not, justice. To this were attached 
the signatures of so many members of various lodges and churches in 
Missouri and Arkansas. With this paper three of their best scouts 
crept down a ravine and escaped, starting afoot for California. The 
next day Ira Hatch and a band of Indians were put upon their track. 
They came upon them asleep on the Santa Clara Mountain, and killed 
two as they slept. The third escaped, shot through the wrist. He 
traveled on and was relieved by the Vegas Indians, on the Santa 
Clara. After a day's rest he started on, but meeting John M. Young 
and another, they told him it would be madness to attempt the Ninety- 
Mile Desert in his condition, and promised to try and smuggle him 
through to Salt Tiuke City. A few hours after, they met Hatch and 
his Indians on the hunt for the fugitive. Said Hatch, " Boys, you can 
pass, we've nothing against you, but this man must die." The doomed 
man thanked the boys for their trouble, oifered a moving prayer, and 
submitted to his fate. Unwilling to look on his death, Young galloped 



THE MORMON 3IURDERERS. 501 

away. A few rods off some impulse caused him to halt and turn 
around. The Indians had shot the fugitive full of arrows ; he was 
still upon his knees, and an Indian just drawing a knife across his 
throat. This brings the whole number murdered up to a hundred and 
thirty-one. The paper dropped by the fugitives was given by an In- 
dian to Jacob Hamlin, Church Indian Agent, who kept it many 
years ; but one day showing it to Lee, the latter took it from him and 
destroyed it. 

The bloody deed was done — the most cruel, pitiless, massacre white 
men were ever guilty of. It only remained to divide the spoil and 
guard against discovery. A tithe of the plunder was turned over to 
the Church. The Indians received the arms and ammunition and 
some of the clothing; but long complained that they did not get their 
share. The finest stock was distributed among the dignitaries in the 
neighborhood; and in 1872, Bishop Windsor, of Pipe Springs, Ari- 
zona, pointed out to me cattle in his own herd descended from stock 
taken at Mountain Meadows. Forty head of cattle were driven to 
Salt Lake City, and traded for boots and shoes to Hon. William H. 
Hooper. Thirteen years afterward this man stood up in his place in 
the American Congress, and solemnly called God to witness that the 
Mormons had nothing to do with this massacre — it was all the work 
of the Indians, The clothing, even that stripped from the corpses, Mas 
put in the cellar of the tithing house at Cedar City, and "sold to pay 
expenses." The carriages, wagons, and jewelry were divided among 
the leaders. And then. Major John D. Lee, as military commandant, 
and Philip Klingensmith, as bishop, went to Salt Lake City and laid 
a full report before Brigham Young — " Governor of Utah and ex- 
officio Superintendent of Indian AiFairs," by the grace of His Excel- 
lency Franklin Pierce. 

And what then? Of course there was a loud outcry for justice; of 
course there was a legislative committee of inquiry ; of course the 
Governor of Utah promptly moved upon the criminals, and the ex~ 
officio Superintendent of Indian Aft'airs reported it to the department. 
Nothing of the kind. Brigham sent word to the Bishoi^s, " Let no 
man talk about this thing — do n't mention it even among yourselves — • 
especially let the women keep silent about it. Let it be forgotten as 
soon as possible." Haight and Lee came up to Salt Lake as senator 
and representative; sat that winter in the legislature; attended the 
usual dinner given by Gov. Brigham Young, and each went home 
wnth a young wife, sealed to them in the Endowment House by the 
Prophet, Seer, and Revelator, Brigham Young! Nobody left the 



502 WESTERN WILDS. 

neighborhood ; nobody lost caste. Lee remained a bishop for fourteen 
years afterward. Dame is a bishop yet; Higbce is a prominent citizen, 
and Haight was still a bishop when I last saw him in 1<S72. The 
dead were buried; peace was made by Commissioners Powell and 
McCulloch with King Brigham; a new emigrant road was laid off, 
lest Gentiles might discover something in passing through the mead- 
ows, and no mention of the affair was made in Mormon society or in 
the Mormon organ, the Deseret News. 

And so all was done, and the dread secret was safe. The last adult 
emigrant had fed the wolves ; the only child old enough to remember 
any thing about it had " disappeared," and the rest, distributed in 
various settlements, soon looked upon the Mormons as tlieir people, 
and forgot that they ever had Gentile parents. Even the women, 
obeying Brigham implicitly, "quit talking about it." Lee called a 
meeting of all who were at the former council, and swore them to 
eternal secrecy, under penalty of the punishment invoked in their 
endowment oaths. Brigham preached in the neighborhood, was the 
guest of Lee, and urged the brethren "to be united and not tale-bear- 
ers, one against another." All avenues of discovery were apparently 
shut up. The job was a complete one. The secret was safe. 

"Ah gentlemen!" said Webster, of a similar case; "that was a 
terrible mistake. Such a secret is safe nowhere. The universe of 
God has no corner wdiere the guilty can bestow it and say it is safe. 
The human heart was not made to be the depository of such a secret. 
There is no refuge from confession but suicide ; and suicide is con- 
fession." Even the banded murderers of Mormondom could not 
keep it. There were too many concerned. There were men w'ith 
human blood in their hearts; there were women with mothers' milk 
in their breasts. They could not carry so oppressive a secret. The 
madness of 1856 and '57 wore itself out. Dazed and bewildered, men 
slowly emerged from the state of excitement, and asked themselves 
what had been done. Strange rumors spread northward from settle- 
ment to settlement. Some of the bovs from AYashino-ton County came 
north after the peace, and met their friends who had served against 
Johnston's army ; and often muttered over their cups that tliey did 
not like " the business they had been engaged in down south." A 
lad in Beaver began to act very strangely — he drank deep of native 
whisky, and never staggered under it; but told of very strange things 
that he saw. 

Young Spencer wasted to a skeleton, and wrote imploring letters 
to his bishop and to Brigham Young, begging for some w'ord to re- 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 503 

lieve his remorse. All at once several young Mormons ran away 
from that section, and the next spring an account of the massacre 
appeared in a California paper. But the young Mormon who brought 
it never showed himself again, and the editor was laughed at. Pretty 
soon, however, it was found that a company of emigrants certainly 
was lost ; and then Brigham Young spoke out. 

The Deseret News officially pronounced it a lie. Privately the 
leaders said : " It was a necessity — we only regret that they had to 
kill the women." Still new flicts kept coming out, and in 1859 Judge 
Cradlebaugh, with a military escort, visited the section, collected the 
available evidence, and published it. Since then the Mormons have 
fallen back point by point. First they insisted no such thing oc- 
curred; then, for a few years, that it was the work of Indians alone. 
About 1865 they began hesitatingly to admit that " a few reprobate 
whites were engaged — men of no standing in the community." In 
1869 the writer hereof collected and published a mass of newly dis- 
covered evidence on the subject; in 1870 the Federal officials made a 
little inquiry. In 1871 the Mormons nominally cut oif John D. Lee 
from fellowship, and sent him on a mission down to the Colorado. 
There I visited him in July, 1872 ; spent three days at his house, and 
heard his version of the massacre. 

Meanwhile public sentiment among the Mormons was growing 
better. Old Mormons died; young ones grew up infidels; Gentile 
notions took root, and it began to be whispered that murder was a 
crime even when done by a priest. In 1874 Congress passed a law 
which took the organization of juries out of the hands of Brigham 
Young, and all at once there was abundant evidence forthcoming. 
Then followed the indictment, the capture of Lee, and flight of the 
others accused, except Bishop Dame, who was arrested soon after Lee. 
The law's delay and the awkwardness attendant on getting a new jury 
system into operation prevented Lee's being tried till midsummer, 
1875. Then the Mormon town of Beaver became the scene of a 
strange drama. Correspondents from the East and West flocked 
thither, and for the first time a little of the inner life of Mormondom 
was brought to light in open court, and reported to all the world. 
The most incredulous were compelled to acknowledge Mormon guilt, 
and there began the series of trials which will eventually make the 
world acquainted with Brigham Young as he is. 

It required the most persevering exertions to get the witnesses to- 
gether. "When Lee was "cut off" from the Church, in 1871, aU the 
Mormons in one day, as it were, changed their tone and began to 



604 WESTERN WILDS. 

denounce him as the bloodiest villain of the ai^o. In fact they were 
extremely anxious to have him ])unished — they even wanted him 
strung up at once. As the day of trial drew near, you might have 
read in all the Mormon prints savage denunciations of his crime, and 
pitiful plaints " that innocent and noble men should have been accused 
of complicity with it." AVhen it was announced that Lee was about 
to turn State's evidence, the Mormon prints indulged in joyful con- 
gratulations that his statement would "completely exonerate President 
Young and the Heads of the Church." All this looked very strange, 
to say the least. And, sure enough, when Lee's statement Avas sub- 
mitted to the District Attorney it was easily proved to be a tissue of 
lies from beginning to end, as shown by abundant testimony. All 
the guilty, he said, were either dead or out of the Territory long ago. 
Not a line did it contain about any one of those in custody. It is 
now believed to have been a Church trick from the start. The only 
guilty man, according to Lee, was Klingensmith, the principal wit- 
ness against him. 

This confession was afterwards repudiated by Lee himself; and, of 
the four he made, the last one alone contained the truth. The trial 
was set for J«ly 12, 1875, in the District Court of the Second District 
of Utah, presided over by Hon. Jacob S. Boreraan. This gentleman 
deserves more than a passing notice. A brother of Senator Borcman, 
of West Virginia, but long a resident of Western Missouri, he unites 
the genial qualities of the typical Western man with the earnestness 
of a thorough lawyer ; and is, withal, a devout Christian, and a man of 
irreproachable morals. When he went to Beaver, it Avas the center of 
the most unpromising section of Mormondom ; but undeterred by 
the spirit of disloyalty and hatred to Gentile laws aud institutions 
which animated that community, he has held steadily on his course. 
As an official, he has maintained the dignity of the judiciary; as a 
Christian, he has fostered the Church and Sabbath-school; as a citizen, 
he has been of immense advantage to the place. Even his enemies 
have learned to respect him; and, as the American population grows 
in numbers, he enjoys the warm friendship of all who make his ac- 
quaintance. 

Hon. William C. Carey, United States District Attorney, assisted 
by R. N. Baskin, Esq., of Salt Lake City, and Judge Wheedon, of 
Beaver, conducted the prosecution. The prisoner's counsel were 
Messrs. J. G. Sutherland, G. C. Bates, Judge Hoge (a Mormon), 
WtHs Spicer, and AV. W. Bishop, the last named of Pioche. It 
was evident from the start that there were grave differences be- 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 505 

tweeri the attorneys for the defense. Messrs. Spicer and Bishop were 
earnestly laboring for the acquittal of their client; to them the Mor- 
mon Church was a secondary aifair, and they would willingly have 
cleared Lee by proving that he had orders from his military and eccle- 
siastical superiors. Messrs. Sutherland and Bates, on the other hand, 
were really the attorneys of the Church, employed and paid by Brig- 
ham Young. That interest was totally indifferent to the fate of Lee, 
if only the inquiry could be made to stop with him, and the heads of 
the Church suffer no stain. This want of harmony produced curious 
and ludicrous results through the entire trial. The first difficulty was 
in selecting a jury. The two hundred names from which it was to 
be drawn, under the terms of the Poland Bill, were half of Mormons 
and half of Gentiles. Then was shown the difficulty attendant on all 
judicial proceedings with men who held their duty to a church to 
absolve them from allegiance to the state. The Saints swore w^ithout 
hesitation that they had formed no opinion ; many of the Gentiles 
admitted they had; so the jury, as finally settled upon, consisted of 
nine Mormons, three Gentiles, and one "Jack-Mormon." Consider 
the following cases of jurors sworn upon their voir dire, and picture 
to yourself a scene which certainly could have occurred in no other 
jjart of the world than Utah : 

Joseph Knight, sworn on his voir dire — Was a native ; lived three 
years in same town with Lee, but never heard much about him ; had 
formed no opinion. Accepted. 

George F. Jarvis sworn — Had lived in St. George (where most of 
the perpetrators now live) fourteen years; had heard little or no talk 
of the "affair;" had formed no opinion. Accepted. This Jarvis 
looked like a thorough " Danite." 

Robert Heyborne sworn — Had lived eighteen years in Cedar City, 
a neighbor to Lee ; had heard nothing more than rumor ( ! ! ) about 
such an occurrence ; had no opinion ! Challenged by prosecution. 

Christopher J. Arthur (a son-in-law of Isaac C. Haight, one of the 
accused) sworn — Lived in Cedar City at the time of the " reported 
difficulty;" was a member of the militia, but was entirely ignorant of 
any facts ; might have heard something about it ; did not remember ; 
formed no opinion. Challenged by prosecution. 

John C. Duncan sworn — Had lived twenty-two years in Utah, but 
heard nothing about the massacre! Had visited Mountain Meadows 
and saw the grave and a monument, but never asked what it was for ! 
Never heard any body say any thing about any massacre, and had 
^i-med no opinion. Accepted as a "model juror." And so on 



506 WESTERN WILDS. 

through the list. Wluit a world of trouble Brooklyn courts might 
have saved, if they had allowed Plymouth Church to select jurors. 

This sort of thing occupied several days. Meanwhile the deputy 
marshals were scouring the country in search of witnesses, every sort 
of obstruction being thrown in their way by the ])eople. The secret- 
iveness and cunning of the Mormon laity renders proof of daring 
crime a work of extreme difficulty. "Keep still and mind your own 
business," is the standing exhortation to the men. " If you see a dog 
run by the door with your husband's head in its mouth, say nothing 
till you have consulted with the bishop," are the exact words in which 
Brigham counseled the women of this district. Joel White, an impor- 
tant witness, was brought in with great difficulty. Marshal Cross 
traversed the Great Desert alone, and found Ivlingensmith in South- 
ern California. On Sunday, July 18th, Lee's "confession" was read 
by the prosecution, and promptly rejected as unworthy of belief. On 
Friday, the 23d, the trial at last began. After an able opening ad- 
dress by District Attorney Carey, Robert Keyes was put upon the 
witness stand, and testified as follows : 

" In October, 1857, he passed through Mountain Meadows valley, 
which is situated south-west of Cedar City. Saw two piles of bodies, 
one composed of women and children, the other of men ; the bodies 
were entirely nude, and seemed to have been thrown promiscuously 
together; they appeared to have been massacred. Should judge there 
were sixty or seventy bodies of women and children ; saw one man in 
that pile ; the children were aged from one and two months up to 
twelve years; the small children were most destroyed by wolves and 
erows; the throats of some were cut, others stabbed with kniveo; some 
had balls through them. All the bodies were more or less torn to 
pieces, except one, the body of a woman, which lay apart a little 
south-west of the pile. This showed no signs of decay, and had not 
been touched by the wild animals. The countenance was placid, and 
seemed to be asleep. The work was not freshly done — supposed the 
bodies had been here fifteen or sixteen days. Witness passed the 
ground October 2d, 1857. There were eleven in the company. Seven 
went to see the pile of slaughtered men which lay a few rods off. 
Witness did not go. All the clothing he saw was a stocking on the 
leg of one of the bodies. The woman lying apart had a bullet hole 
on the left side, a little below the heart." 

Asahel Bennett, of the same party, testified to substantially the same 
facts. Then Philip Klingensmith was called, and there was a general 
movement in the audience. Every eye and ear was strained, and the 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 507 

man was thoroughly photographed by every attendant. He was a 
heavy, rather stolid looking Dutchman, six feet high, well muscled, 
slow, heavy, and phlegmatic. He had been indicted along with the 
others, and a nolle entered. He began with extreme slowness, amount- 
ing almost to stupidity, but as he went along gradually grew more ani~ 
mated; his dull eye lit up, the blue veins stood out on his forehead, 
and his every feature and muscle seemed to work as in sympathy with 
the horrors he Avas reciting. In the most blood-curdling scene, where 
he told of the shooting of some Avomen who had children in their 
arms, every eye in the room turned as with one impulse to Lee. His 
light hair fairly vibrated Avith emotion ; his Hibernian features were 
mingled red and purple ; and, as he literally shook in his chair, the 
great veins stood out on his neck like cords, and he seemed to grasp at 
his throat as if choking ! In that awful moment he tasted the bitter- 
ness of death. I would not have recognized him as the man at whose 
table I ate, three years before, on the Colorado. Beside him sat two 
of his wives, and close by, most of the Gentile ladies of Beaver. 
The material part of Klingensmith's testimony ran thus : 
"We were halted a quarter of a mile from the emigrants, and in 
full sight. A man went on with a flag of truce. A person came out 
from the emigrant camp, and Lee went down, and he and the emigrant 
negotiated. They sat down and had a long talk. Lee then went in- 
side the camp, and the soldiers stood in line three or four hours. Lee 
was inside the intrenchment most of the time, and finally the emi- 
grants came out. 

" Higbee ordered the proceedings. Lee went ahead with the 
wagons containing the men wounded in the attack made bv the 
Indians. The young children and women were marched behind. 
The men came out next in double rank. The soldiers marched 
by their side with their pieces across their arms. We were protect- 
ing the emigrants. Some expressed their thankfulness at being de- 
livered from the Indians, We marched from a quarter to half a 
mile, and command was given to halt. The soldiers had been in- 
structed when they halted to fire on the emigrants ; might have been 
shifted to single rank ; think they were. Higbee gave the orders to 
fire ; suppose there were fifty men killed ; might have been more ; 
none escaped; saw some attempt; there were mounted men to dis- 
patch the fugitives. Bill Stewart chased one fleeing man ; I think I 
.saw him fall; he did not go far. Ira Allen was mounted and placetl 
on the left wing. Witness was with the men in the ranks and fired 
one time. John M. Higbee cut one man's throat. One larsre woman 



508 WESTERN WILDS. 

came running from the wagons calling for her husband. A man 
standing near to me sliot her in the back, and she fell dead. Being 
ordered to gatlier up the children, I went a quarter of a mile to the 
wagons; the wounded men had l)een killed before we got there; did 
not see Lee put the children in the wagon ; went to Hamlin's house. 
The soldiers then dispersed. The company from Washington County 
went south ; the company from Cedar City went to Hamlin's. I had 
my hands full with the children ; seventeen of them, from two to seven 
or eight years of age ; two were wounded, and one died on the way. 
[The witness then details the gathering and distribution of the prop- 
erty.] The draught animals, wagons, and clothing were taken to Cedar 
City ; fifty head of tlie emigrants' stock were branded with the church 
brand (a cross). [He also describes the meeting of Lee in Salt Lake, 
where he had been sent to report the massacre to Brigham Young.] 
Witness and Charley Hopkins called upon Brigham ; he directed M'it- 
ness to turn over the property to Lee. Brigham turned to witness 
and said: 'What do you know about this affair? Keep it secret and 
don't talk about it among yourselves.' Lee was present at this inter- 
view. Fifty head of cattle Avere driven to Salt Lake, and sold to 
Hooper, formerly delegate to Congress, for boots and shoes." [Wit- 
ness then tells how he was sent to the old lead mines at Vegas, 
Arizona, with two others to get lead, and when he returned, the 
property at Cedar City had been auctioned off.] 

Judge Sutherland subjected the witness to a long and searching 
cross-examination, but failed to shake his testimony in the slightest. 
Joel White testified at great length as to the orders issued for calling 
out the militia, Mhich he understood to come from Col. Dame; of the 
massacre and distrilnition of the property ; of the seventeen little 
children saved, and of afterwards seeing the Indian, deputed for that 
purpose, cut the throat of the boy who was " big enough to remember 
and talk about it." He insisted that he took no part in the massacre, 
and only went with the militia because he feared death if he refused. 
Klingensmith had admitted actual participation in the killing. 

Mrs. Ann Eliza Hoge testified to what was done at both councils, 
where the massacre was determined and wdiere Lee made his report. 
Also to hearing the boy say of an Indian : "He killed my pa — he's 
got on my pa's clothes," and that this boy was taken away by John D. 
Lee, and never seen again. Witness was a French Mormon; at the 
time of the massacre the wife of an elder at Harmony. I afterwards 
talked at great length with her, in Salt Lake City, and gained many 
important particulars. 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 509 

Thomas D. Willis told of a council Haight had with him and his 
father as to the best way to kill the emigrants, and confirmed other 
witnesses as to the goods distributed. John H. Willis, brother of 
Thomas, told of driving the team which conveyed the children ; and 
confirmed many other points. William Matthews described the rich- 
ness of the train ; the orders to sell no corn to the emigrants ; of the 
circulation of the story that the emigrants had poisoned a spring, and 
other matters. William Young gave more in detail the facts of the 
massacre, where he was present, and confirmed previous testimony on 
other points. Samuel Pollock told substantially the same story. John 
Sherratt testified to the storing of the goods, including clothing from 
the dead bodies, in the cellar of the tithing house at Cedar City, and 
seeing it sold by Lee at auction. William Bradshaw told of sermons 
preached to excite the people against the emigrants, and threats of 
death to all who did not aid the Church in whatever was commanded. 
Robert Kershaw told the same story ; also as to the orde^.s not to trade 
with the emigrants. He wanted to sell them some vegetables and was 
forbidden. The bishops had employed Samuel Dodge as special 
policeman to watch the train and see that no Mormon sold them any 
thing. John Morgan traded them a small cheese for a bed-quilt, and 
was "cut off" for it. This man's testimony was of more interest as 
showing the rigid discipline maintained in the Church, and the danger 
of disobedience, than as to the massacre. IVtany other witnesses con- 
firmed the foregoing, and testified to facts I have set forth in the pre- 
vious summary. All were severely cross-examined, but their testi- 
mony remained unshaken. 

Five days had passed when the defense began. They first attempted 
to prove the old slander, invented in 1859, to deceive Judge Cradle- 
baugh, that the emigrants had poisoned a spring near Corn Creek, and 
then that they had poisoned the flesh of an ox and given it to the 
Indians to eat ; but broke down completely on both charges. On this 
point Elisha Hoops testified : 

"Lived in Beaver in 1857, and knew George A. Smith and Jesse N. 
Smith, ex-Bishop Farnsworth, and other shining lights of the Mormon 
Church. On September 27th of that year he accompanied the Smith 
party as guard as far north as Fillmore ; camped at Corn Creek, and 
found the Arkansas emigrants encamped there, about 150 paces distant. 
Some members of the company came and talked to the Smith party; 
tliey inquired of George A. Smith where they could get grass and 
water to recuperate their animals, who referred them to Jacob Ham- 
lin, and he designated Mountain Meadows as the best grazing ground. 



610 WESTERN WILDS. 

An ox lay dead between the two camps, and just as witness' party was 
about to start, he saw a little German doctor, who belonged to the 
emigrant company, draw a two-edged dagger with a silver guard — 
such as gentlemen carry — and make three thrusts into the ox. Next 
he produced a small, half-ounce vial, filled with a light colored liquid, 
which he poured into the knife-holes. The question had previously 
been asked by these men whether the Indians would be likely to eat 
the carcass, and some thought they would. Witness did not see the 
train again. Ten or fifteen minutes afler the German had poisoned 
the ox, some Indians came up and dickered with him for it. They 
finally gave him some buckskins, and then began skinning the ox. 
Witness supposed the Indians wanted the hide to cut up into soles for 
their moccasins. Don't know how long they were flaying the animal, 
as witness' party was driving away at the time." 

During noon recess, as it appears, some one suggested to this witness 
that he had missed his mark in saying that the ox was poisoned just as 
they started away, and that fifteen minutes afterwards the Indians came 
and bought the ox (which they could have for nothing as soon as 
the emigrants left), and then flayed it ! Afternoon he tried to piece 
out his testimony by saying that the hame-strap broke and they were 
delayed to fix it. Mr. Baskin pressed him so closely on the cross- 
examination that he was completely tangled. The other witnesses for 
the defense produced very little of consequence. 

Meanwhile the country had been heard from. A roai of execration 
had sounded from Maine to California, and Brigham felt the necessity 
of being exonerated. He filed a deposition, and Judge Sutherland 
attempted to get it admitted on the trial, on the plea (sworn to in the 
deposition) that Brigham's health forbade his making the journey. 
Only a short time before he had gone to St. George, a hundred and 
fifty miles further south than Beaver. It was not age and ill health, 
but the dread of Mr. Baskin's cross-examination that kept him out of 
the court-room. But his deposition was published in the papers, and 
proved an extraordinary document. Here is the material part of it : 

Q. When did you first hear of the attack and destruction of this Arkansas company 
at Mountain Meadows, in September, 1857 ? 

A. I did not learn any tiling of the attack or destruction of the Arkansas company 
until some time after it had occurred, then only by floating rumors. 

Q. Did John D. Lee report to you at any time after this massacre what had been done 
at that massacre; and if so, what did you reply to him in reference thereto? 

A. Within some two or three months after the massacre he called at my office and 
had much to say with regard to the Indians, their being stirred up to anger and threat- 
ening the settlements of the whites, and then commenced giving an account of the 



THE MORMON MURDERERS. 511 

massacre. I told him to stop, as, from what I had already learned by rumor, I did not 
wish my feelings liarrowed up with a recital of details. 

Q. Did Philip Klingensmith call at your office with John D. Lee, at the time of Lee's 
making his report ; and did you at that time order him to turn over the stock to Lee, 
and order thoni not to talk about the massacre ? 

A. No. He did not call with John D. Lee, and I have no recollection of his ever 
speaking to me, nor I to him, concerning the massacre or any thing pertaining to the 
property. 

Q. Did you ever give any directions concerning , the property taken from the emi- 
grants at the Mountain Meadows massacre, or know any thing as to its disposition ? 

A. No. I never gave any directions concerning the property taken from the emi- 
grants at the Mountain Meadows massacre ; nor did I know any thing of that property 
or its disposal, and I do not to this day, except from public rumor. 

Q. Why did you not, as Governor, institute proceedings forthwith to investigate the 
massacre and bring the guilty authors to justice ? 

A. Because another Governor had been appointed by the President of the United 
States, and was tlien on the way here to take my place, and I did not know how soon he 
might arrive; and because the United States Judges were not in the Territory. Soon 
after Governor Gumming arrived, I asked him to take Judge Cradlebaugh, who belonged 
to the Southern District, with him, and I would accompany them with sufficient aid to 
investigate the matter and bring the offenders to justice. 

Q. Did you, about the 10th of September, 1857, receive a communication from Isaac 
C. Haight, or any otlier person of Cedar City, concerning a company of emigrants, called 
the Arkansas company? 

A. I did receive a communication from Isaac C. Haight or John D. Lee, who was 
then a farmer for the Indians. 

Q. Have you that communication ? 

A. I have not. I have made a diligent search for it, but can not find it. 

Q. Did you answer this communication ? 

A. I did, to Isaac C. Haight, who was then the acting President at Cedar City. 

Q. Will you state the substance of your letter to him ? 

A. Yes. It was to let this company of emigrants and all companies of emigrants 
pass through the country unmolested, and to allay the angry feelings of the Indians as 
much as possible. 

(Signed) BRIGHAM YOUNG. 

Here was a Governor, Prophet, Indian Superintendent, and absolute 
head of a theocracy, who only heard of a massacre " some two or three 
months after it occurred," by "floating rumors," and refused to listen 
to an account of it lest he might have his "feelings harrowed up!!" 
Too tender-hearted to do his sworn duty! And so ignorant of what 
was going on that he heard " only rumors." Verily, the world has 
been sadly mistaken about Brigham Young. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY? 

The case went to the jury, and all Utah waited in deep suspense 
for the verdict. Among Gentiles the general voice was: " Brigham 
can't aiford to let him be convicted — the Church must stand by Lee." 
The evidence was conclusive of guilt, but we all knew that Church 
policy alone would dictate the verdict; and it was evident the jury 
had been " counseled." Agreeable to Western instincts, there was 
much betting on the result, the odds largely against conviction. But 
Hon. George C. Bates, the Church attorney, soon arrived at Salt 
Lake City, and telegraphed to John W. Young, Brigham's "apostate 
son," as he was then called, that conviction was agreed upon; and 
John AV. took all the bets offered. He was in the Board of Trade 
rooms at Chicago, while Johnnie Young, Brigham's nephew, went 
about Salt Lake City doing the same. Then it was known that the 
Church had taken the least of two evils, and resolved to convict. 

But all parties were mistaken. And this from a miscalculation on 
the part of the Church. It appears that just before the trial the Mor- 
mon leaders concluded that they could keep away the most important 
witnesses; that the prosecution would therefore break down, and it 
would be safe to acquit. So the Mormon jurymen were "counseled" 
to that effect. But Baskin and Carey completely outgeneraled the 
Church and its attorneys; the vigor and daring of the United States 
marshals insured the attendance of the proper witnesses, and a far 
worse case was proved than even the bitterest anti-Mormon had 
looked for. It was then decided by the Church to convict ; but it 
was too late. Seven deputy marshals had been sworn in to watch 
the jury; and of the three Gentiles on the panel, each constituted him- 
self a special detective to see that no hint from outside reached his 
Mormon colleagues. Even their correspondence was withheld unless 
they would consent to have it first read by the judge. Signals were 
made to them in open court, but they failed to understand what Mas 
wanted. They were in blissful ignorance of the storm of rage sweep- 
ing over the country, and its effect on their priestly masters, and so 
obeyed their first instructions. Thev had all sworn thev knew nothing 

(512; 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY? 



513 



of the case ; but on reaching the jury room, they proceeded to contro- 
vert the testimony for the prosecution by facts within their own 
knowledge. The vote stood from first to last, nine for acquittal and 
three for conviction. The majority first installed the Jack-Mormon, 
J. C. Heister, in the chair, and then one by one delivered elaborate 
Mormon sermons : against the prosecuting attorneys, against the 
court and all Federal officials, against the emigrants, against the 
United States, against all who were not of the Mormon Church or 
its most subservient tools. It was perhaps the most curious and 
irregular jury proceeding ever had in any civilized country. The 
three Gentiles on the panel held their ground for two days, smiling 
grimly on their foes, and willing to see the latter commit themselves ; 




SALT LAKE CITY— 1857. 

then consented to a disagreement. Promptly, as if pulled by one- 
string, all the Mormon papers appeared with articles having a won- 
derful family resemblance, and claiming that the verdict was a com- 
plete vindication of the Church, and a "pointed rebuke to the prose^ 
cution ! " And to cap the climax of absurdity, Captain John Cod. 
man, their Eastern apologist, rushed into the New York prints with 
an effusive statement that " Gentile slanderers were at last silenced, 
and President Brigham Young fully exonerated ! " 

One can scarcely say whether the Americans in Utah were pleased 
or chagrined at the result of this trial. They knew that justice 
would some day be done, and meanwhile the action of the Church 
would rouse the indignation of the whole countrv- But even thev 
had underrated this effect. There was a storm of rage in the Ilock\ 
33 



ol4 WESTERN WILDS. 

Mountains; the Pacific Coast papers bristled with denunciations of 
Brigham and the leading Mormons. The staidcst journals seemed to 
grow wild. One advocated a reign of martial law till every murderer 
in Utah was executed. Another called for the immediate arrest of 
Brigham, on a bench warrant, before he could fly the country. And 
still another complained that the civil law was too slow: "The 
streets of Salt Lake should be ornamented with the heads of the 
Mormon leaders." Then came answering echoes from the East. 
Nearly every influential paper in the country called for prompt jus- 
tice. Utah Avas excited as I never saw it before. The six Mormon 
papers literally bovved before the blast, and appeared afraid to say any 
thing, or had nothing to say. Beyond a few commonplaces about 
"waiting for the facts," and deprecating "the mob spirit," they 
attempted no defense. In the States were two journals M'hich can 
always be depended on to espouse the cause of the Mormons in every 
emergency — the Omaha Herald and the Washington Capital. But 
both remained silent over this aifair, virtually admitting that the 
worst was proved against the Mormons. Captain Codman, with a 
faithful friendship that did him honor, came to the rescue of Brigham 
in the columns of the New York Post ; and the editor of that paper 
mildly hinted that the Mountain Meadow massacre was ■' a feature of 
the Mormon rebellion of 1857," and had perhaps been condoned by 
Buchanan's proclamation of amnesty, made in 1858. Beyond these 
no word of palliation was heard ; the press and the country were 
unanimous in the opinion that the Mormon theocracy was morally 
responsible for this great crime, and that a solemn duty devolved 
upon the government to see that full justice was done. 

But of all the Mormons in Utah, the case of none excited such 
horror and regret among the Gentiles as that of Hon. AV. H. Hooper. 
It is proved thiit he received forty head of the murdered emigrants' 
cattle ; and it is scarcely possible that he, a Mormon high in the con- 
fidence of the Church, could have been ignorant of tlie matter. And 
yet he, through all his congressional career, again and again, and that 
most bitterly, laid the whole affair on the Indians; and more than 
once, in company with senators, he solemnly swore that no Mormon 
liad any thing to do Avith it. He even employed journalists to write 
up the Mormon view of the ease. And can it be possible that all 
that time he knew it was a cruel lie? Can it be that he has taken the 
money of the Government even while employing fraud and perjury to 
defeat justice, and shield those who had murdered its citizens? If so, 
this earth has no damnation deep enough for him. But among his 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY? 515 

Gentile friends there is still some hope. It is barely possible that he 
may have been deceived; that while all other leading Mormons knew 
the facts, he was kept in ignorance. From every part of Utah came 
implorings for some explanation in his favor; and if it shall appear 
that he acted innocently and ignorantly, ten thousand Gentiles will be 
gratified. 

A calm folloAvcd the storm, and Utah took a rest till the next 
term of court. It was proposed by a few Mormons that Lee should 
be brought to Salt Lake City and tried ; but the proposition was so 
readily favored by the prosecution that it was promptly withdrawn. 
Fourteen months passed, and Lee came to his second trial in Sep- 
tember, 1876. It excited far less attention in the East, for the 
nation Avas then busy with national concerns. But it was evident, 
almost from the start, that the Church had at last decided to sacrifice 
Lee. The evidence, as on the former trial, was overwhelming, and 
Daniel H. Wells, Brigham's right-hand man, was present all the time 
to see that every thing went riglit. The witnesses for the defense had 
forgotten all they ever knew ; Mormons, for the prosecution, testified 
with amazing fluency. Lee was doomed. The Church was present 
in spirit, and by her representative, consenting unto his death. 
W. W. Bishop, Esq., the prisoner's counsel, Avas completely taken by sur- 
prise when he saw that the Church was actually aiding the prosecu- 
tion. It was so totally unlike what he had a right to expect. His 
theory now is that the prosecuting attorney, or some one in author- 
ity, had a secret understanding with Brigham Young to the effect 
that if Lee were convicted and executed, the matter would stop there, 
and the main obstacle to the admission of Utah as a State be 
removed. Mr. Bishop has a great deal to learn about the duplicity 
and treachery of the Mormon leaders. Five years residence in 
Utah would clear his vision considerably. 

And now occurred one of those strange transformations for which 
Utah is notorious. On the former trial the prosecution had sought 
to show that Lee acted as a Mormon, inspired by some orders or 
hints from the heads of the Church. Now Sumner Howard, Escj[., 
U. S. District Attorney, emphatically disclaimed all intention to im- 
plicate the Church, and hinted that the conviction of Lee would be 
the exoneration of Brigham. Mr. Bishop, for the defense, on the 
other hand, made a fierce assault on the heads of the Church, for 
their evident intention to sacrifice Lee. He said : 

"I see a State government looming up in the distance. I see a 
future prospect for individuals, ]X)litical and financial. I see a sliift- 



516 WESTERN WILDS. 

ing of the responsibility for this crime upon John D. Lee, and I see 
the Gentiles, who aid the shifting, riding into the United States 
Senate," Mr. Howard disclaimed any such bargain, but stated his 
satisfaction at the fact that the jury was composed entirely of Mor- 
mons, He told them that Mormon juries were now on trial, and 
their verdict must decide whether their church was to stand before 
the world convicted of shielding assassins. Despite his disclaimer, it 
is generally believed in Utah that the Mormon authorities were led 
to believe the death of Lee w'ould strengthen them before Congress, 
As strategy, this was a great success for the prosecution; whether it 
was "professional," lawyers must decide. One thing, however, is 
certain: it did not produce the eifect desired by Brigham; the world 
is more than ever convinced of his connivance at crime or conceal- 
ment of crime. 

My sometime friend, Jacob Hamlin, figured extensively on this 
trial, AVithout a blush he succeeded in remembering a score of 
things he had forgotten on former occasions ; and gave, at great 
length, Lee's statement to him, made soon after the tragedy, Lee 
told him in detail of the murder of the two girls who escaped the 
general massacre ; and the manner in which Hamlin recited Lee's ac- 
count convinced some w^ho heard it that another crime was com- 
mitted before the girls were killed, 

Hamlin testified that he had never before repeated Lee's words 
except to George A, Smith and Brigham Young, and that Brigham 
told him "to keep still about these things till the proper time came 
to tell it all ! " I ask the Eastern reader to pause at this point, and 
ponder this startling fact. Here was Jacob Hamlin, a most reputa- 
ble citizen of southern Utah, a man whom I know to be in many 
respects high-toned and honorable, receiving the confession of a 
double-dyed murderer, carrying it in his mind all these nineteen 
years, and never going near a court or grand jury, never breathing it 
to an officer, just because Brigham Young so commanded ! And in the 
spring of 1859, when Brigham made a great show ^)f wanting the 
matter investigated, Hamlin was with General W, H, Carleton and 
other U, S, officials — gave them a circumstantial account of " this In- 
dian massacre," assisted them to gather up the children, and could 
not remember any thing whatever tending to criminate a white man. 
At tiie mere request of Brigham Young this most excellent citizen, 
whom I know by personal intercourse to be a pleasant gentleman, a 
patriarch in his town, told lie on top of lie, and covered himself 
fathoms deep with perjury to screen his brother Mormon. And 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY? 517 

"when the proper time came," with sublime eoohiess he came into 
com-t and told it all, still at the command of Brigham Young! 
And yet there are lawyers in the East, and statesmen in Congress, 
who will maintain that Brigham had no control in southern Utah in 
1857; that the massacre was done against his wish; that he did not 
know of it, in fact ! 

"Oh, judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason." 

Samuel Knight and Samuel McMurdy testified to seeing Lee kill 
several persons; that he blew a woman's brains out, beat one man to 
death with a gun, and shot others; then came to the wagons and shot 
all the wounded men with a pistol. At this point in the testimony 
Lee broke down, and when remanded to his cell walked the floor a 
long time, cursing the Mormon leaders who, he said, had betrayed 
him. He knew, even before his attorney did, that the Church had 
decided to give him up; he had suspected this at the start, and urged 
his attorney to secure a few Gentiles on the jury, in the hope that 
they might revolt against this conspiracy. But this had proved im- 
possible. All the Gentiles called had heard or read of the case ; the 
Mormons called "had never heard of it, and had formed no opinion." 
For "model jurors" they could beat New York City. When the 
argument of counsel began, the defense had no recourse but to 
abuse the witnesses. Mr. Bishop took the broad ground that all 
those present at the massacre were equally guilty and not to be be- 
lieved. 

At noon of September 20th, Judge Boreman delivered his charge 
to the jury; they retired, and at 3:30 P. M. returned into court with 
this verdict : 

Beaver City, Sept. 20, 1876. 

We, the jurors, duly sworn and impaneled to try the case wherein John D. Lee is in- 
dicted for murder, do find the said John D. Lee guilty of murder in the first degree. 

A. M. Farnsworth, Foreman. 

By order of the Court, the Marshal brought Lee to the bar. The 
Court asked : 

"John D. Lee, have you any thing to say why the sentence of 
death should not be pronounced against you in accordance with the 
verdict of the jury?" 

Lee : " I have not." 

Court: "You, John D. Lee, prisoner at the l>ar, have, by the ver- 
dict of a jury, been found guilty of murder in the first degree. The 
proof was clear and positive. At the trial last year the evidences of 



518 WESTERN WILDS. 

guilt were plain, l)ut tliree-fourths of the jury, from some cause, were 
then for your acquittal. The testimony on the present trial is mainly 
from witnesses who could not then l)e ol)tained. From some cause 
this evidence is now unsealed, and the witnesses are found ready in 
your case to tell what part you played in the great crime. They will 
hereafter have opportunity of telling what others did to aid in plan- 
ning and executing it. Tiie fact that the evidence was not brought 
out on this trial to criminate some other leaders, does not show that 
such evidence does not exist. * * * According to the evidence 
on the former trial, the massacre seems to have been the result of a 
vast conspiracy extending from Salt Lake City to the bloody field. 
The emigrants were hounded all along the line of travel, and no- 
where were the citizens permitted to give or sell them any thing to 
sustain life in man or animal, though they were in great need 
thereof. 

''The men who actually participated in the deed arc not the onlv 
guilty parties. Although the evidence shows plainly tliat you were 
a willing participant in the massacre; yet both trials taken together 
show that others, and somq high in authority, inaugurated and de- 
cided upon the wholesale slaughter of the emigrants. That slaughter 
took place nineteen years ago. From that time to the present term 
of court there has been throughout the Territory a persistent and 
determined opposition to any investigation of the massacre. ^ =i= * 
But their eiForts to smother and crush out investigation w^ere found 
to . avail them no longer. It was impossible to longer delay when 
the inside facts of the conspiracy should be brought out; and they 
have suddenly changed their policy, and seem now to be consenting 
to your death. * * * Xhe unoffending victims, though their 
mouths are closed in this world, will meet you at the bar of Al- 
mighty God, where the secrets of all hearts shall be made known. 
And the guilty can not avoid that tribunal. ^= * * In accordance 
w'ith the verdict of the jury, and the law, it becomes my duty to pass 
the sentence of death upon you ; and in doing this the statute requires 
that you may have a choice, if you desire, of three different modes 
of execution, to-wit : by hanging, by shooting, or by beheading. 
If you have any choice or desire in this respect, you can now ex- 
press it." 

Lee : " I prefer to be shot." 

Court : " As you have made choice, and expressed it, that you be 
executed by being shot, it follows that such shall be the judgment 
of the Court. The judgment of the Court, therefore, is, that you be 



GUILTY OB NOT GUILTY? 519 

taken hence to a place of confinement within this Territory; that 
you there be safely kept in confinement until Friday, the 26th day 
of January, 1877 ; that between the hours of 10 o'clock A. M. and 
3 o'clock P. M. of that day, you be taken from your place of confine- 
ment and in this district publicly shot until you are dead; and may 
Almighty God have mercy on your soul ! " 

But an appeal was taken, and the Supreme Court of Utah sus- 
j^ended the execution. The case was heard in that court, and an able 
opinion delivered by Justice Philip H. Emerson, fully sustaining the 
court below, and concurred in by all the justices. The mandate di- 
rected the Second District Court to fix a new date for execution, and 
Judge Boreman named Friday, March 23, 1877. There was much 
talk of an appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States, but 
none was taken, though Congress has granted this. privilege in murder 
cases to Utah alone of all the Territories. Still Lee did not give up 
all hope. There are mysterious hints of a secret understanding be- 
tween him and the district attorney, by which the latter was to secure 
a pardon or commutation in return for evidence that would convict 
all the others guilty of complicity in the massacre. Lee's wife, Rachel, 
shared his confinement to the last, and Lee worked steadily on his 
confession. But if there was any such agreement, it was set aside, and 
the convicted man at last resigned all hope. He then wrote out a 
full confession, and gave it to the district attorney ; but the latter has 
only published such jjortions as would in no way interfere with his 
plans for convicting others. A previous confession written by Lee, 
and delivered to his attorney, W. W. Bishop, Esq., has also been pub- 
lished — the lawyer having agreed with Lee to sell the paper to the 
press, take his fee therefrom, and pay over the remainder to Rachel. 
In these confessions Lee at last tells nearly all the truth, still shield- 
ing himself, however, and denying any actual killing. I append the 
most important sections : 

My name is John Doyle Lee. I was born September 6, 1812, at Kaskaskia, Eandolph 
County, Illinois. My mother belonged to the Catholic Churcli, and I was christened in 
the faith. My parents died while I was still a child, and my boyhood was one of trial 
and hardshijj. I married Agatha Ann Woolsey in 1833, and moved to Fayette County, 
Illinois, on Sucker Creek. There I became wealthy. In 1836 I became acquainted with 
some traveling Mormon preachers. I bought, reaxl, and believed *.he Book of Mormon. 
I sold my property in Illinois, and moved to Far West, in Missouri, in 1837, where I 
joined the Mormon Church, and became intimately acquainted with Joseph Smith, Brig- 
ham Young, and other leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I 
was subsequeiitly initiated into the order of Danites at its first formation. The mem- 
bers of tnis order were solemnly sworn to obey all the orders of the priesthood of the 
Mormon Cnurch, to do any and all things as commanded. The " destroying angels " 



520 WESTERN WILDS. 

of the Mormon Church were selected from this organization. I took an active part as a 
Mormon soldier, as it was the recurring conflicts between the people and tlie Mormons 
whicli made Jackson County, Missouri, historic ground. Wlien the Mormons were ex- 
pelled from Missouri, I was one of the first to settle at Nauvoo, Illinois, where I took an 
active part in all that was done by the Church or city. I had charge of the construc- 
tion of many public buildings there, and was the policeman and body-guard of Joseph 
Smith at Nauvoo. After his death I held the same position to Brigham Young, who 
succeeded Joseph Smitli as Prophet, Priest, and Kevelator in the Church. I was Re- 
corder for the Quorum of Seventy, head clerk of the Church, and organized the priest- 
hood in the Order of Seventy. I took all the degrees of the Endowment House, and 
stood iiijih in the priestliooil. I traveled extensively throughout the United States as a 
Mormon missionary, and acted as trader and financial agent of the Church. From the 
deatli of Joseph Suiitii until the settlement at Salt Lake City, I was one of the locating 
committee that selected sites for various towns and cities in Utah Territory. I held 
many ofhces in the Territory, and was a member of the Mormon legislature, and was 
probate judge of Washington County, Utah. Immediately after Joseph Smith received 
tiie revelation concerning polygamy, I was informed of its doctrines by said Joseph Smith 
and the Apostles. I believe in the doctrine, and have been sealed to eighteen women, 
three of wliom are sisters, and one was the mother of three of my wives. I was sealed 
to this old woman for her soul's salvation. I was an honored man in the Church, flat- 
tered and regarded by Brigham Young and the Apostles, until 1868, when I was cut ofT 
from the Church and selected as a scapegoat to suffer for and bear the sins of my people. 
As a duty to myself and mankind I now confess all that I did at the Mountain Mead- 
ow Massacre, without animosity to any one, shielding none, and giving the facts as tliey 
existed. Those with me at that time were acting under orders from the Church of Jesus 
Christ of Latter-day Saints. The horrid deeds then committed were done as a duty 
which we believed we owed to God and our Church. We were all sworn to secrecy be- 
fore and after the massacre. The penalty for giving information concerning it was 
death. As I am to suffer death for what I tlien did, and have been betrayed both by 
those who gave orders to act and those who were the most active of my assistants, I 
now give the world the true facts as they exist, and tell why the massacre was com- 
mitted, and who were the active participants. 

In the month of September, 1857, the company of emigrants, known as the " Arkansas 
Company," arrived in Parowan, Iron County, Utah, on their way to California. At 
Parowan young Aden, one of the company, saw and recognized one William Laney, a 
Mormon resident of Parowan. Aden and his father had .rescued Laney from an anti- 
Mormon mob in Tennessee several years before, and saved his life. He (Laney), at the 
time he was attacked by the mob, was a Mormon missionary in Tennessee. Laney was 
glad to see his friend and benefactor, and invited him to his house, and gave him some 
garden sauce to take back to the camp with him. 

The same evening it was reported to Bishop (Colonel) Dame that Laney had given 
potatoes and onions to the man Aden, one of the emigrants. Wlicn the report was made 
to Bi.shop Dame he rai.sed his hand and crooked his little finger in a significant manner 
to one Barney Carter, his brother-in-law, and one of the "Angels of Death." Carter, 
without another word, walked out, went to Laney's house with a long picket in his 
hand, called Laney out, and struck him a heavy blow on the head, fracturing his skull, 
and left him on the ground for dead. C. Y. Webb and Isaac Newman, President of the 
" High Council," both told me that they saw Dame's maneuvers. James McGuffee, then 
a resident of Parowan — but through oppression has been forced to leave there, and is 
now a merchant in Pahranagat valley, near Pioche, Nevada — knows these facts. 

About the last of August, 1857, some ten days before the Mountain Meadow Massa- 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTYf 521 

ere, the company of emigrants passed through Cedar City. George A Smith— then 
First Councilor in the Church and Brigham Young's right-hand man— came down from 
Salt Lake City, preaching to the diflferent settlements. I, at that time, was in Washing- 
ton County, near where St. George now stands. He sent for me. I went to him, and 
he asked me to take "iiim to Cedar City by way of Fort Clara and Pinto settlements, as 
he was on business, and must visit all the settlements. We started on our way up 
through the canon. We saw bands of Indians, and he (George A. Smith) remarked to 
me that these Indians, with the advantage they had of the rocks, could use up a large 
company of emigrants, or make it very hot for them. After pausing for a short time 
he said to me, "Brother Lee, what do you think the brethren would do if a company 
of emigrants should come down through here making threats? Don't you think they 
■would pitch into them? " I replied that " they certainly Avould." This seemed to please 
him, and he again said to me, "And you really think the brethren would pitch into 
them?" "I certainly do," was my reply; "and you had better instruct Colonel Dame 
andllaight to attend to it that the emigrants are permitted to pass, if you want them to 
pass unmolested." He continued: "I asked Isaac (meaning Haight) the same question, 
and he answ^ered me just as you do, and I expect the boys w^ould pitch into them." I 
again said to him that he had better say to Governor Young, that if he wants emigrant 
companies to pass without molestation, that he must instruct Colonel Dame or Major 
Haight to that effect; for if they are not ordered otherwise, they will use them up by the 
help of the Indians. 

The confession then tells of the councils in which the destruction 
of the emigrants was decreed ; the gathering of the Mormon militia, 
and the siege down to the time treachery was decided upon, and con- 
tinues as follows : 

The plan agreed upon there was to meet them with a flag of truce, tell then^ that the 
Indians were determined on their destruction; that we dare not oppose the Indians, for 
we were at their mercy; that the best we could do for them (the emigrants) was to get 
them and what few traps we could take in the wagons, to lay their arms in the bottom 
of the wagon, and cover them up with bed-clothes, and start for the settlement as soon 
as possible, and to trust themselves in our hands. The small children and wounded 
were to go with the two wagons, the women to follow the w^ngons and the men next, the 
troops to stand in readiness on the east side of the road ready to receive them. Shirtz 
and Nephi Johnson were to conceal the Indians in the brush and rocks till the company 
was strung out on the road to a certain point, and at the watchword "Halt! do your 
duty!" each man was to cover his victim and fire. Johnson and Shirtz were to rally 
the Indians, and rush upon and dispatch the women and larger children. 

It was further told the men that President Haight said that if we w^re united in car- 
rying out the instructions, we would receive a " celestial reward." I said I was willing 
to put up with a less reward, if I could be excused. "How can you do this without 
shedding innocent blood?" Here I got another lampooning for my stubbornness and 
disobedience to the priesthood. I was told that there was not a drop of innocent blood to 
the whole company of emigrants, and was also referred to the Gentile nation who refused the 
children of Israel passage through their country when Moses led them out of Egypt— 
that the Lord held that crime against them; and that when Israel was strong the 
Lord commanded Joshua to slay the Avhole nation, men, women, and children. 
" Have not these people done worse than that ^to us? Have they not threatened to 
murder our leaders and Prophet? and have they not boasted of murdering our patriarchs 
and prophets, Joseph and Hyrum? Now talk about shedding innocent blood!" They 



522 WESTERN WILDS. 

said I was a good, liberal, free-hearted man, but too much of this sympathy would be- 
always in the way ; that every man now had to sliow his colors; that it was not safe to 
have a Judas in camp. Then it was proposed that every man express himself; that if 
there was,a man who would not keep a close mouth, they wanted to know it tlien. This 
gave me to understand what I might expect if I continued to oppose. Major Iligbee 
said: "Brother Lee is right. Let him take an expression of the people." I knew I 
dare not refuse, so I had every man speak and express himself. All said they were 
willing to carry out the counsel of their leaders; that the leaders had the Spirit of God, 
and knew better what was right than they did. 

The massacre is then related in detail down to the time -wlien the 
wounded men in the wagons were killed, after which the conlcssion 
continues : 

At this moment I heard the scream of a child. I looked up and saw an Indian have 
a little boy by the hair of his head, dragging liim out of the hind end of the wagon, with 
a knife in his hand, getting ready to cut his throat. I sprang for the Indian, with my 
revolver in hand, and shouted to the top of my voice : ".Iric/;, ooma, cot too sooet," (stop, 
you fool.) The child was terror-stricken. His chin was bleeding. I supposed it Avas 
the cut of a knife, but afterward learned that it was done on the wagon-box as the In- 
dian yanked the boy down by the hair of the head. I had no sooner rescued this child, 
than another Indian seized a little girl by the hair. I rescued her as soon as I could 
speak ; I told the Indians that they must not hurt the children— that I would die before 
they should be hurt ; that we would buy the children of them. Before this time the 
Indians had rushed up around the wagon in quest of blood, and dispatched the two 
runaway wounded men. 

I got up, saw the children, and among the others the boy who was pulled by the hair 
of his head out of the wagon by the Indian — and saved by me. That boy I took home 
and kept home until Dr. Forney, Government Agent, came to gather up the children 
and take them East. He took the boy with the otliers. The boy's name was Fancher. 
His father was captain of the train. He was taken East, and adopted by a man in Ne- 
braska, named Richard Sloan. He remained East several years, and then returned to 
Utah, and is now a convict in the Utah penitentiary, having been convicted the past 
year for the crime of highway robbery. He is well known by the name of "Idaho 
Bill," but his true name is William Fancher. His little sister was also taken East, and 
is now the wife of a man working for the Union Pacific Eailroad Company, near Green 
River. 

Some two weeks after the deed was done, Isaac C. Haight sent me to report to Gov- 
ernor Young in person. I asked him why he did not send a written report. He replied 
that I could tell him more satisfactorily than he could write, and if I would stand up 
and shoulder as much of the responsibility as I could conveniently, that it would be a 
feather in my cap some day, and that I would get a celestial salvation, but the man 
that shrunk from it now would go to hell. I went and did as I was commanded. 
Brigham asked me if Isaac C. Plaight had written a letter to him. I replied, not by 
me; but he wished me to report in person. "All right," said Brigham. " Were you an 
eye-witness?" "To the most of it," was my reply. Then I proceeded and gave him a 
full history of all, except that of my opposition. That I left out entirely. I told him 
of the killing of the women and children, and the betraying of the company; that, I 
told him, I was opposed to; but I did not say to him to what extent I was opposed to it, 
only that I was opposed to shedding innocent blood. "Why," said he, "you diirer from 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTYf 523 

Isaac (PTaight), for lie said there was not a drop of innocent blood in the wliole 
company." 

When I was through he said it was awful; that he cared nothing about the men, but 
the women and children was what troubled him. I said : " President Young, you should 
either release them from their obligation, or sustain them when they do what they have 
entered into the most sacred obligations to do." He replied: "I will think over the 
matter, and make it a subject of prayer, and you may come back in the morning and see 
me." I did so. He said: "John, I feel first-rate. I asked the Lord, if it was all right 
for the deed to be done, to take away the vision of the deed from my mind, and the Lord 
did so, and I feel first-rate. It is all right. The only fear I have is of traitors." He 
told me never to lisp it to any mortal being, not even to Brother Heber. President 
Young has always treated me with the fi'iendship of a father since, and has sealed 
several women to me since, and has made my home his home when in that part of the 
Territory — until danger has threatened him. This is a true statement, according to my 
best recollection. 

Tliis statement I have made for publication after my death, and have agreed with a 
friend to have the same published, with many facts pertaining to other matters connected 
with the crimes of the Mormon people under the leadership of tlie priesthood, from a period 
before the butchery of Nauvoo, to the present time, for the benefit of my family, and that 
the world might know the black deeds that have marked the way of the Saints from the 
organization of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to the period when a 
weak and too pliable tool lays down his pen to face the executioner's guns for deeds 
which he is not more guilty than others, who to-day are wearing the garments of the 
priesthood, and living upon the "tithing" of a deluded and priest-ridden people. My 
aut(jbiography, if published, will open the eyes of the world to the monstrous deeds of 
the leaders of the Mormon people, and will also place in the hands of the attorney for 
the Government, the particulars of some of the most blood-curdling crimes that have 
been committed in Utah, which, if properly followed up, will bring many down from 
their high places in the Church to face offended justice upon the gallows. So mote 
it be. 

(Signed) JOHN D. LEE. 

The autobiography, of which Lee speaks, is for the present withheld, 
for obvious reasons. But when the confession was forwarded to the 
New York Herald for publication, the proprietor telegraphed Rrigham, 
asking if he liad any statement to make in connection with the publi- 
cation. Brigham replied as follows : 

St. George, Utah, March 22. 
James Gordon Bennett, Neiv York: — Yours just received. If Lee has made a statement 
in his confession implicating me, as charged in your telegraph of the 21st inst., it is ut- 
terly false. My course of life is too well known by thousands of honorable men for 
them to believe for one moment such accusations. 

(Signed) BRIGHAM YOUNG. 

Only that and nothing more. And straightway all the Mormon 
papers of Utah, and all of Brigham's apologists in the East, cried out 
that the Prophet was completely exonerated; that no one would take 
the word of a murderer like Lee against so good a man as Brigham. 
How easily are people deceived, if they ardently wish to be. 



624 WESTERN WILDS. 

The last clay drew near, and United States Marshal, William Nelson, 
M'ith an eye to poetical justice, selected Mountain Meadows as the 
scene of execution. Judge Borenian did not approve of this, thinking 
it sav'ored of revenge and spectacular disphiy; he would have preferred 
the execution should take place at Beaver, whore the court was held. 
But few officials and press representatives knew of this selection 
till after the escort had left Beaver. Several reporters were present. 
As his last hour drew near, Lee became very cheerful and communi- 
cative. The execution ground was about a hundred yards cast of the 
monument, which is now but a mass of rocks. Lee was attended by 
Rev. Mr. Stokes, to whom he finally confessed that he killed five of 
the emigrants with his own hands. This was his first and last con- 
fession of actual murder. Tlie shooting squad of five men was detailed 
from the guard of soldiers who had escorted the party from Camp 
Cameron. They were armed M'ith needle-guns, and stood no more 
than forty feet from the coffin, on which sat the condemned. At 10:30 
A. M., Marshal Nelson read the death-warrant, and asked Lee if he 
had any thing to say. Mr. Fennemore, an artist, had meanwhile ar- 
ranged his material for taking a photograph of the scene. Lee said : 

" I Avant to speak to that man." 

Fennemore replied : " In a second, Mr. Lee." 

Lee : " I want to ask you a favor. I want you to furnish my three 
wives each a copy of my photograph — a copy of the same to Rachel 
A., Sarah C, and Emma B." 

Fennemore (in a low tone) : " I will." 

Marshal Nelson (aloud) : " He says he will do it, Mr. Lee." 

Lee (in a somewhat pleading tone) : " Please forward them — you 
tcillf' 

Lee then stood up and said in calm and measured tones : 

I have but little to say this morning. Of course I feel that I am upon the brink of 
eternity, and the solemnities of eternity should rest upon my mind at the present. I 
have made out, or endeavored to do so, a manuscript and an abridged history of my 
life. This is to be published, sir. I have given my views and feelings with regard to 
all these things. I feel resigned to my fate. I feel as calm as a summer morning. I 
have done nothing designedly wrong. My conscience is clear before God and man, and 
I am ready to meet my Redeemer. This it is that places me on this field. I am not an 
infidel. I have not denied God or His mercy. I am a strong believer in these things. 
The most I regret is parting witli my family. Many of them are unprotected, and will 
be left fatherless. When T speak of tliose little ones, they toucli a tender chord within 
me. (Here Lee's voice faltered perceptibly.) I have done nothing designedly wrong in 
this afTair. I used my utmost endeavors to save this people. I Avould have given 
worlds, were it at my command, to have avoided that calamity. But I could not. I am 
sacrificed to satisfy feelings, and I am used to gratify parties, but I am ready to die. I 
have no fear. Death has no terror. No particle of mercy have I asked of the court or 



G UIL TY OR NOT G UIL T Y? 



525 



officials to spare my life. I do not fear death. I shall never go to a worse place than 
the one I am now in. I have said it to my family, and I will say it to-day, that the 
Government of the United States sacrifices its best friend, and that is saying a great deal, 
but it is true. I am a true believer in the gospel of Jesus Christ, I do not believe 
every thing that is now practiced and taught by Brigham Young. I do not agree with 
him. I believe he is leading the people astray; but I believe in the gospel as it 
was taught in its purity by Joseph Smith in former days. I have my reasons for say- 
ino- tliis. I used to make this man's will my pleasure, and did so for thirty years. See 
how and what I have come to this day. I have been sacrificed in a cowardly and das- 
tardly manner. 

There are thousands of people in the Church, honorable, good-hearted, that I cherish 
in my heart. I regret to leave my family. They are near and dear to me. These are 
things to rouse my sympathy. I declare I did nothing wrong designedly in this unfortu- 
nate aflair. I did every thing in my power to save all the emigrants, but I am the one 
that must sufTer. Having said this, I feel resigned. I ask the Lord my God to extend 
liis mercy to me, and receive my spirit. My labors are done. 








EXECUTION OF JOHN D. LEE. 

Having thus spoken he sat down on his coffin. 

The minister offered a fervent prayer. The spectators were ordered 
to fall back. Marshal Nelson gave command : 

" Make ready ! Aim ! Fire !" 

The five rifles cracked sinuiltaneou.sly, and Lee fell back dead, 
without a struggle. Five balls had passed through him in the imme- 
diate vicinity of the heart. Either alone would have caused instant 
death. His countenance was perfectly placid; his lips parted to some- 
thing very near a smile. 



626 WESTERN WILDS. 

Thus died John Doyle Lee, a fanatic and a sensualist, a devotee 
and a nuirdcrer, a kind father, a pleasant host, a hospitable gentleman 
and a remorseless bigot. The same qualities which, with proper edu- 
cation and surroundings, would have made him an energetic, active 
and valuable citizen of a Christian community, in Mormonism made 
him a polygumist and a murderer. Doubtless there was a time in his 
early life when the weight of a hair either way would have determined 
the course of his career — as the drop falling on one side of a Minne- 
sota roof may flow down to the sunny gulf, on the other side to the 
frozen ocean. The accident of an hour turned his life into the chan- 
nels of Mormonism- thence his way was steadily downward, and the 
j)erversion of those forces Avhich would have made him honored in Il- 
linois, consigned him to infamous remembrance in Utah. So may all 
who are conscious of unregulated passion look upon him as the pious 
bishop did upon the hardened convict, " There go I, but for the 
grace of God." 

It only remains to inquire into the probable, or possible, fate of his 
companions in crime, and the proof of Brigham Young's complicity. 
Of those indicted, only George Adair and Elliott Wilden are in cus- 
tody, both minor characters in the tragedy, though other participants 
testified on the trial. But the really guilty, such as Isaac Haight, 
John M. Higbee and AVilliam C. Stewart — the men who planned and 
carried the matter through exultingly — are in hiding in the Indian 
country. For a long time they lived in a mountain fastness of south- 
eastern Utah, and Hon. G. C. Bates, their attorney, visited and con- 
versed with tlicm in their chosen stronghold. He gave me a dra- 
matic account of his experience there ; of his going in at night and re- 
turning the next night, by a way so devious that none but Indians or 
the most accomplished scouts could find it. But even that place did 
not make them feel safe ; and since the Mormons extended their south- 
ern settlements into New Mexico and Arizona, the murderers have re- 
treated there. The community still shields them, but, as time passes, 
there is a growing number of Mormons who would like to see jus- 
tice done. The United States Government now has one duty to per- 
form: to offer a moderate reward for their capture, or guarantee the 
expense. Let this be done, and Marshal AVilliam Stokes will pick 
his assistants and have those assassins in the Beaver jail Mithin two 
months. 

JNIarshal Stokes, to whom Utah and the cause of justice are so 
greatly indebted, deserves more than a passing notice. A native of 
New York, but reared in ^yisconsin, he was then thirty-three years of 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTYf 527 

age, in the very prime of mental and physical vigor. He served four 
years in Company " D," of, the Eighth Wisconsin, and was in twenty- 
five battles and skirmishes, including the battle of Corinth and assault 
on Vicksburg. With Vi posse of but five men he executed the skillful 
movement ending in the capture of Lee ; and if our somewhat too 
cautious Congress will but vote to pay the expense, he will capture 
the others. 

Was Brigham Young guilty? To me the evidence seems overwhelm- 
ing that he was accessory after the fact — not quite conclusive that he 
ordered the massacre. But there is a fearful array of evidence, and 
steadily accumulating, to that effect, though much of it is moral and 
inferential rather than direct. Its nature may be judged from one 
fact: the longer a Gentile lives in Utah the more he is convinced of 
Brigham's guilt, for he sees more and more that no such action would 
have been taken by those southern Mormons unless they had been 
certain of Brigham's approval. The empire that man had obtained 
over Utali in 1857 and succeeding years, has never been exceeded on 
earth ; it is something Americans can never hope to understand until 
they have lived years in Utah. As Prophet, he held the " keys of 
the kingdom," and all IMormons believed that none could enter there 
without his voucher. As Priest, he alone had authority to " seal " and 
divorce, whetlier for time or eternity. As Seer, he literally directed 
every movement of the community. As Revelator, they regarded his 
words as the very oracles of God. As First President, he was official 
head of all orders of the priesthood. He w^as then officially styled 
"Prophet, Priest, Seer and Revelutor, First President and Trustee-in- 
Trust of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." In the 
last capacity he had control of all the property concerns of Utah. 
Every thing was done and every body directed by priestly " counsel." 
No move of any importance was entered upon without his consent; 
no lay member of his own motion ever ventured upon any new enter- 
prise. Brigham must be consulted if he would change his town or 
residence, his associations or his business, go abroad or remain at 
home, buy a farm or take another wife. Nor is this all. Besides be- 
ing their spiritual head and guide, he was military commander over 
Dame, Haight and Lee. If there is any power possible on this earth 
which he did not have, many years search have failed to show it. Is 
it credible that, under such circumstances, such a momentous affair 
could take place without his consent? Scores of times have I heard 
Brigham speak of the power he exercised over " this people." It had 
been his boast for thirty years that the Saints would do nothing against 



528 WESTERN WILDS. 

his Avisli. We must judge him by his own utterances and tliose of his 
nearest friends. 

But there are direet evidences. First : His sermon that if emi- 
grants tried to cross the Territory he would " turn the Indians loose 
on them." Second: His admitted knowledge of the aifair soon after 
it occurred, and failure to denounce or seek to have the guilty pun- 
ished. Third : His complete silence thereon in his next report as In- 
dian Agent. Fourth : His persistent falsehood for fifteen years after- 
wards in denying that the whites had any thing to do with it. Fifth : 
His continued attempts to deceive all who made inquiry into the mat- 
ter, and a score of other facts already mentioned. Collateral to the 
main issue, there are other crimes of which Brigham was undoubtedly 
guilty. The public files show that the year after the massacre he wrote 
to Indian Commissioner Denver charging the crime upon the In- 
dians — this in accordance with tlie arrangement made with the mur- 
derers, of which Lee speaks — and that he actually charged the Govern- 
ment for the material taken from the murdered emigrants and given 
to the Indians! Here is a clear case of perjury, proved by docu- 
mentary evidence. And for this also, had an honest jury been found 
in Utah, he would have been indicted. Nor is this all. In 1864 a 
member of the Indian Committee visited Utah, and to him Brigham 
made complaint that the Mormons had not been paid for their ex- 
penses in the late Indian wars. The official gave as a reason that 
charses against them were on file in connection with ]Mountain Mead- 
ows. Then Brigliam called high heaven to witness that the Saints had 
nothing to do with that massacre — " it was all the work of Indians." 
As late as 18G9, the Bene ret Xeirs, Brigham Young's official organ, con- 
tained an article, w^ritten by Apostle George Q. Cannon, later a Dele- 
gate in Congress from Utah, bitterly denying that any Mormon was 
ens-affcd. Thus the Mormon authorities went on vear after vear 
swearing to lies and publishing lies about Mountain Meadows, when, 
according to all the evidence on the trial, they knew the facts then as 
well as we know them now ! What rational explanation can be 
given of such crookedness, except that they had some sort of guilty 
connection with the actual participants? 

I have but touched upon the mass of evidence. Brigham Young 
has many apologists in the East, but among them all I have heard no 
attempt at explanation of these things. There is one man to whose 
life-long friendship the Mormons are more indebted for the immunity 
they enjoy than to any other one agency. Colonel (since General) 
Thomas L. Kane, a gentleman of high character, accompanied them 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY f 



529 



in tlieir journey from Council Bluifs to Salt Lake; was the guest of 
Brigham Young; acted as their mediator in 1858, and has been their 
apologist to the Government ever since. He first saw them in their 
extreme misery, after their expulsion from Nauvoo, and his sympa- 
thies were powerfully excited in their behalf. He gave his views of 
them in a fascinating lecture, delivered before the Historical Society 
of Pennsylvania, March 26, 1850, and that lecture has probably cov- 
ered more crimes and done more harm than any ever delivered in 
America. Assuredly, Colonel Kane was benevolent and sympathetic ; 
but it is equally certain that his sympathy overbalanced his judgment. 
The value of his testimony may be judged from a few focts. He 
gave his solemn assurance that the Saints were a law-abiding people ; 
that they were rigid moralists in all that pertained to the relations of 
the sexes ; that all the charges made against them, including polygamy, 
were false and'scandalous, and made with a view of getting their prop- 
erty. At the very time these words were written, and when Colonel 
Kane was a guest in his tent, Brigham was the husband of four icives! 
I am personally acquainted with dozens of men and women who were 
born in polygamy at the very time Colonel Kane was with the Saints, 
proving that polygamy had no existence ! The Saints were denying 
the practice then ; they now avow its existence since 1843, and laugh 
at the Gentiles for having been deceived. Between 1843 and 1852 
they put on record fourteen sworn or printed denials of the existence 
of polygamy; since 1852 they have denied their own denials, and now 
claim that polygamy was an established institution among them three 
years before they left Illinois. Colonel Kane speaks as if it were 
little short of blasphemy to doubt the high character of IVIormon 
women ; and in the postscript to the second edition he insists that the 
Mormons, as he knew them, had "a general correctness of deportment 
and purity of character above the average of ordinary communities." 
And yet in that same camp were men having mother and daughters as 
"wives;" one woman who had left her husband in Boston to follow 
Brigham, and another who had got a divorce from Dr. Seely, of 
Nauvoo, to become Brigham's "second!" Oscar Young, oldest son 
of Brigham's third or fourth " wife," was born near the Missouri 
River about the time Colonel Kane was reporting to the President 
that no polygamy existed among the Saints ; and the perpetrator now 
acknowledges four murders committed near there, while the Colonel 
was indorsing the law-abiding Mormons! A little further on the 
Colonel recites with amazement that gulls were unknown in Utah, till 
the Mormons needed them to eat the crickets which were devouring 
34 



530 WESTERN WILDS. 

their crops ! And this, when every explorer for a century past had 
told of the Salt Lake gulls, which arc certainly as much indigenous 
to the Great Basin as the blackbird is to Ohio! There renuiins but 
one question in my mind : Could a man of Colonel Kane's acumen 
be so grossly deceived, or was there some other reason ? 

But a little later Colonel Kane accidodalli/ .states a very important 
fact. Having endeavored to show that the Mormons in Illinois were 
sadly belied by their neighbors, who wanted to drive them away and 
get their property, he adds: " When they left Xauvoo all their fair- 
weather friends forsook them. Priests and elders, scribes and preach- 
ers, deserted by whole councils at a time ; each talented knave, of 
whose craft they had been victims, finding his own pretext for aban- 
doning them, without surrendering the money-bag of which he was 
the holder.'' So it appears there were " talented knaves " in the 
Church while it was at Nauvoo ; there were thieves who ran off with 
"monev-bags," and "fair-weather friends" who used the Mormons. 
And yet while these people were in the Church, stealing from Gentiles 
and laying it to Saints, and stealing from Saints and laying it to Gen- 
tiles, Colonel Kane can find no reason for outside hostility to Nauvoo, 
except that the Gentiles wanted their property. He proves that 
nearly half the Nauvoo community was composed of adventurers from 
all parts of the country, "talented knaves" who proved to be thieves, 
and then maintains that the Illinois Gentiles were responsible for all 
the troubles there! Verily, benevolence is a grand sentiment; but it 
mntj be overdone. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 



On a bright Sunday in June, 1876, while the nation was on the 
top wave of the Centennial enthusiasm and opening of the Presi- 
dential campaign, the news went flashing over the wires that General 
George A, Custer and 
all his command lay 
dead in a Montana 
valley, the victims of 
a Sioux massacre. 
With him had died 
his two brothers, his 
brother-in-law and a 
nephew ; and of all 
that entered that bat- 
tle not one white man 
survived. For a brief 
space there was hope 
that it might be a 
false report, but soon 
followed official pa- 
pers which confirmed 
every ghastly detail 
of the first dispatches. 
For a few days the 
public sorrow over- 
came all other consid- 
erations ; then, by nat- 
ural revulsion, sorrow 
gave place to indignation, and that in turn to a fierce demand for in- 
vestigation and a victim. The public must have a victim when there 
has been a misfortune. Then ensued a performance which was no 
credit to us as a nation. His opponents attacked President Grant as 
the real cause of Custer's death; his friends foolishly defended the 
President by criticising Custer; the latter's friends in the army sav- 




THE NOBLE KED MAN. 



532 WESTERN WILDS. 

agely attacked Major Keno and Captain Bentecn as being the cause of 
the General's misfortunes, and thus the many-sided fight went on. 
Before stating any facts bearing on this issue, a brief sketch of Gen- 
eral Custer's previous expericnee on the plains is in order. 

George Armstrong Custer was born at New Rumley, Ohio, Decem- 
ber 5, 1839, and was consequently but thirty-seven years old at the 
time of his death. At ten years of age he went to live witli an older 
sister in Monroe, Michigan, and ever after considered that place his 
home. There, on the ninth of February, 1864, he married Elizabeth, 
only daughter of Judge Daniel S. Bacon. He entered West Point as 
a cadet in 1857, and graduated four years after — away down in the 
list. Worse still, he was court-martialed for some minor breach of 
etiquette, and, badly as officers were needed just then, had some 
trouble in getting located in the army. But we long ago learned that 
rank at West Point by no means settles the officer's later standing in 
the army. Soon after graduating he was made Second Lieutenant, and 
assigned to Company ''G," Second United States Cavalry, and ar- 
rived just in time to take a little part in the Bull Run battle and 
stampede. A little later he served on the staif of General Phil. 
Kearney, and early in the summer of 1862 Avas made full captain and 
aid-de-camp of General McClellan. And this contributed not a little 
to some of his troubles in after years, as he was an enthusiastic 
"McClellan man," and by no means reticent in his views. Animosities 
were excited during that controversy which were not settled till long 
afterwards. 

Little by little Custer fought his way up, and the last year of the 
Av&r the country was charmed and excited by the brilliant movements 
of Brigadier-General George A. Custer, of the Ignited States Cavalry. 
After the war we almost lost sight of him. Except that President 
Johnson took him, along Avith a few others, as one of the attractions 
of that starring tour, "swinging' 'round the circle," we hear no more of 
Custer till the army was reorganized in 1866, and he was once more 
a captain in the United States Cavalry, this time on the plains. But 
it was a different sort of army to that Avith which he had won his 
early honors. Language fails to portray the utter demoralization of 
our regular army from 1865 to 1869 or '70. All the really valuable 
survivors of the volunteer army had returned to civil life; only the 
malingerers, the bounty -jumpers, the draft-sneaks and worthless re- 
mained. These, with the scum of the cities and frontier settlements, 
constituted more than half of the rank and file on the plains. The of- 
ficers, too, had been somewhat affected by the great revolution. The 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 



533 




old West Pointers were dead, or retired on half pa}', or had grown to 
such rank in the volunteer army that they could not bear to drop back 
to their old position in the regular service. The officers consisted of 
new men from West Point; of men who had been appointed from 
civil life or from the volunteer army, in most instances to oblige some 
politician; and a few men like Custer, to whom military life was both 
a pleasure and a legitimate business. Desertion was so connnon 
among the private soldiers that it entailed no disgrace anywhere in 
the AVest. Hundreds enlisted sim- 
ply to get transportation to the 
Rocky INIountains, and then de- 
serted. When our wagon-train was 
on its way to Salt Lake in 1868 a 
deserter traveled with us two days, 
dressed in his military clothing, and 
without the slightest attempt at 
concealment. In this wretched 
state of the service in the West, 
Custer was promoted to the rank of 
Lieutenant-Colonel, and put in com- 
mand of the Seventh United States 
Cavalry. 

It was but nominally a cavalry 
regiment. The men were there, and the horses, with guns, equip- 
ments, an organization and a name ; but as a cavalry regiment he had 
to make it, and he did it so well that it soon became the reliable regi- 
ment of the frontier. The new Colonel's career, for some time to 
come, was among the hostile Indians of Western and South-western 
Kansas— then the worst section of the Far West for Indian troubles. 
The tourist who glides rapidly and with such keen enjoyment through 
this region, by way of the Kansas Pacific or Atchison, Topeka <fe 
Santa Fe Road, can scarcely conceive that but a few years have 
elapsed since it contained thousands of murderous savages; for it is a 
noteworthy fact that nothing so soon moderates the danger of Indian 
attacks as a railroad. It seems that, even if no fighting is done, the 
mere presence of the road, with daily passage of trains, either drives 
the Indians away or renders them harmless. But in the early days the 
routes to the Colorado mines were raided at regular intervals. One 
year there would be almost perfect peace, the next a bloody Indian war. 
It seems to have been the policy of the Indians to behave well long 
enough to throw emigrants off their guard, then swoop down and mur 



SCENE OF SIOUX WAR OF 1876. 



534 



m 

WESTERN WILDS. 



der and plunder with impunity. The region between the Smoky Hill 
and the Republican was ^larticularly noted for bloody encounters. It 
was raided in turn by Sioux, Cheyennes and Arapahoes, and often by all 
three in concert. Every ravine and knoll on the route has its own 
local legend — the details, a blending of the ludicrous and horrible. 

Tradition relates 

that two bold set- 
tlers started for 
the mines in a time 
of profound peace, 
just after the In- 
dians had con- 
cluded a most sol- 
emn treaty and 
shaken hands over 
their promise to 
live in eternal 
peace with the 
whites ; the set- 
tlers, in Western 
m i r th f u 1 n e ss, 
painting on their 

"BUSTED." ^ '^ 

white wagon- 
cover the words, " Pike's Peak or Bust." A scouting party sent out 
from some post came upon them on the Upper Republican just in time 
to see the savages vanishing in the distance. The oxen lay dead in 
the yoke. Beside the wagon were the corpses of the two settlers, 
transfixed with arrows. They had " busted." 

In 18G4 the savages broke out worse than ever, carrying oif several 
women captive from the settlements in Kansas. In 1865 there was 
a precarious peace; but in 1866 and '67 the Indians raided every part 
of the stage road. Meanwhile the noted "Chivington massacre" had 
occurred, and General P. E. Connor had, by extraordinary exertions, 
killed some Montana Indians ; both events were seized upon by East- 
ern ''humanitarians," and for awhile they succeeded in completely 
paralyzing all portions of our army. And here it may be observed 
that our peculiar, tortuous, uneconomical and most unsatisfactory 
Indian policy, is the result of a certain conflict of forces highly liable 
to occur in a free republic. There is, first, a small but eminently 
respectable and powerful party which is opposed to fighting the 
Indian at all, and think he might be fed and soothed into keeping the 







THE NOBLE RED 3IAK 535 

peace; and that, at any rate, it would be cheaper to feed all the 
Indians to repletion than to fight them. And as to this last point they 
are emphatically correct. There is, next, a considerably larger num- 
ber, mostly on the frontiers, who believe in a war of extermination, 
but they have little or no political influence. There are also the 
traders and agents, some honest and some otherwise, whose interests 
are involved ; and the sensible middle class, who believe in keeping 
treaties with the Indians, and thrashing them if they break treaties. 
Of course it sometimes happens that one of these parties is ahead, and 
then another. As a result our policy is strangely crooked, inconsist- 
ent and expensive. The Indian no sooner gets accustomed to one 
policy than another is adopted; he has scarcely learned to trust one 
officer till another is in his place, who takes a malicious pleasure, 
apparently, in undoing all that the former has done. This uncertainty 
entails frightful expense both in treasure and life. But it is a diffi- 
culty inseparable, apparently, from our form of government. 

It is unnecessary to trace the causes which led to Hancock's cam- 
paign against the Indians in 1867. It was a formidable affair on 
j)aper, but accomplished nothing. Our Avhole force consisted of eight 
troops of cavalry, seven companies of infantry and one battery of 
artillery, the whole numbering 1,400 men. General Hancock, with 
seven companies of infantry, four of the Seventh Cavalry, and all the 
artillery, marched from Fort Riley to Fort Harper, and there was 
joined by two more troops of cavalry. Thence they marched south- 
west to Fort Larned, near the Arkansas. The hostile Indians, con- 
sisting of Cheyennes and Sioux, had appointed a council near by ; but 
all sorts of difficulties seemed to arise to prevent their coming up to 
time. First, there was a heavy snow, although it was the second 
week in April ; and the runners reported that the bands could not 
come. Then word came that they had started, but found it necessary 
to halt and kill some buffiilo ; and again that they had once come in 
sight, but were afraid on account of so many soldiers being present. 
Then General Hancock proceeded up the stream to hunt the Indian 
camp, and was met by an imposing band of warriors. Another par- 
ley ensued : midway between the hostile forces Generals Hancock, 
A. J. Smith and others met Roman Ncse, Bull Bear, White Horse, 
Gray Beard and Medicine Wolf, on the part of the Cheyennes, and 
Pawnee Killer, Bad Wound, Tall-Bear-that-walks-under-Ground, 
Left Hand, Little Bull and Little Bear, on the part of the Sioux. 
There was no fighting, but after a few days more of excuses, the 
mounted Indians suddenly departed. Then it was discovered that the 



536 



WESTERN WILDS. 



whole proceeding was but a well-played ruse to enable the Indians to 
get their women and children to a place of safety, and leave the war- 
riors free for contingencies. The accomplished commanders of the 
American army had been tricked by a lot of dirty savages. Custer 
in the lead, pushed on with all possible speed after the Indians, but in 
vain. They had struck the stage stations on the Smoky Hill route, 
and murdered several persons; and the war was begun. It ended 
decidedly to the advantage of the Indians. 




CUSTKR'S first INDIAN FIGHT. 

Custer's first experience in actual Indian fighting was while escort- 
ing a wagon-train loaded with supplies from Fort Ellis. The Indians 
had selected for the fight a piece of ground well cut up with gullies — 
an admirable system of "covered ways" — by which they hoped to get 
close up to the wagons without being discovered, and then make a 
charge. But the watchful eye of a scout discovered their plan, and 
brouoht on the conflict on 2:round more favorable to the whites. The 
train was simultaneously attacked on all sides by six or seven hundred 
well-mounted Indians, outnumbering Custer's party twelve to one. 
The savages attacked in the manner known as "circling" — that is, 
riding round and round the whites, hanging on the opposite side of 
their horses so as to be shielded, and firing over the animal's back 
and under his breast. The scout Comstock had predicted a long and 
obstinate battle: "Six hundred red devils ain't a goin' to let fifty men 
stop them from getting the sugar and coffee that's in these wagons." 
And they did not yield the prize as long as there was hope. The 
soldiers were located around the wagons in skirmish order. The 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. • 537 

Indians encircled them in a much larger ring ; but though the firing 
continued for hours, only a few Indians were hit, so difficult was it to 
take aim at the swiftly flying horse or rider. All this time the train 
moved slowly on over the comparatively level prairie, the teamsters 
shivering with terror, and scarcely needing the command to "keep 
closed up — one team's head right against the next wagon." This fight 
lasted three hours, and had the Indians maintained it much longer, 
the soldiers must have run out of ammunition. But the savage scouts, 
posted all around on the highest points, gave warning that something 
was wrong ; and soon the whole band ceased firing and galloped ofi'. 
Five of them had been killed and several wounded. The cause of 
their sndden retreat proved to be Colonel West's cavalry command, 
which soon arrived. 

Custer's next anxiety was for Lieutenant Kidder and his party of 
eleven men, who were known to be moving across from the Eepubli- 
can to Fort Wallace, through a country now swarming with hostile 
Indians. Soon after getting the supply train into camp, Comstock, 
the scout, was appealed to for his opinion as to Kidder's chances. It 
was far from encouraging. But Comstock's reply to the officers con- 
tains some hints worth recording. Said he: "Well, gentlemen, there's 
several things a man must know to give an opinion. No man need tell 
me any pints about Injuns. If I know any thing, it's Injuns. I know 
jest how they'll do any thing, and when they'll take to do it ; but 
that don't settle the question. Ef I knowed this young lootenint, if I 
knowed what sort of a man he is, I could tell you might} nigh to a 
sartainty all you want to know; for, you see, Injun huntin' And Injun 
fightin' is a trade all by itself; and like any other bizness, a man has 
to know what he's about, or ef he don't, he can't make a livin' at it. 
I have lots o' confidence in the fightin' sense o' Red Bead, the Sioux 
chief, who is guidin' the lootenint, and ef that Injun can have his 
own way, there is a fair sliow for his guidin' 'em through all right; 
but there lays the difficulty. Is this lootenint the kind of a man 
that is willin' to take advice, even if it does come from an Injun? My 
experience with you army folks has allays been that the youngsters 
among ye think they know the most ; and this is 'specially true ef 
they've jist come from West Pint. Ef one o' 'em young fellers 
knowed half as much as they bleeve they do, you couldn't tell 'em 
nothin'. As to rale book larnin', why I spose they've got it all, but 
the fact of the matter is they couldn't tell the diffi^rence 'twixt the 
trail of a war party and one made by a huntin' party to save their 
necks. Half uv 'em when they first cum here can't tell a squa\'- 



538 WESTERN WILDS. 

from a buck, because they both ride straddle; but they soon larn. But 
that's neither liore nor thar. I'm told that this lootejiint we're talkin' 
about is a new-comer, and that this is his first scout. Ef that be the 
case, it 2)uts a mighty unsartain look on tlie whole thing; and 'twixt 
you and me, gentle?»t'H, he'll be mighty lucky ef he gets through all 
right. To-morrow we'll strike the Wallace trail, and I can mighty 
soon tell whether he's gone that way." 

Next day the relief party, led by Custer, came on Lieutenant 
K idder's trail, and after a brief examination Comstock pronounced : 
" The trail shows that twelve American horses, shod all around, have 
passed at a walk; and when they went by this pint they war all 
right, because their horses are a movin' aloug easy, and no pony 
tracks behind 'em, as would be ef the Injuns had an eye on 'em. It 
would be astouishin' for that lootenint and his layout to git into the 
fort without a skrimmage. He may, but ef he does, it'll be a scratch- 
ef ever there was one; and I'll lose my confidence in Injuns." 

Custer ordered the command to hurry up, and, following the trail, 
they came, in a few hours, upon two dead horses with the cavalry 
brand, but stripped of all accouterments. A little farther, and they 
saw that the American horses had- been going at full speed, while all 
around Comstock pointed out the minute but abundant evidences that 
the Indians had fought them from all sides, the pony tracks being 
numerous. A little farther, and they entered the tall grass and 
thickets along Beaver Creek, and there saw several buzzards floating 
lazily in the air, while the trail Avas sprinkled with exploded cartridges 
and other debris. That told the tale. Nor were they long in finding 
the dead. The sight made the blood even of these brave men curdle. 
Lieutenant Kidder and his companions lay near together, stripped of 
every article of clothing, and so brutally hacked and mangled that all 
separate recognition was impossible. Every skull had been broken, 
every head scalped ; the bodies w^ere mutilated in an obscene and in- 
describable manner, and some lay amid ashes, indicating that they had 
been roasted to death. The scalp of Red Bead, the friendly Sioux, lay 
by his body, as it is contrary to their rules to carry away the scalp of 
one of their own tribe ; nor is it permitted among most Indians to 
keep such a scalp or exhibit it. The exact manner of their death can 
not be known, but all the surroundings showed that they fought long 
and well. Custer's command buried them on the spot where found, 
whence the father of Lieutenant Kidder removed his remains the next 
winter. 

Custer marched on to Fort Wallace with all possible speed, but 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 539 

troubles multiplied. The soldiers had begun to desert. Forty men 
took "French leave" in one night! The next day thirteen men 
deserted in broad day, in full view of the command, seven mounted 
and six on foot. After a desperate run the latter were captured, two 
slightly and one mortally wounded. It is to be noted that they were 
then in a region where the deserters apprehended no danger from 
Indians. Two men were killed by the Indians after all danger was 
thought to be past. From Fort Wallace the command marched east- 
ward to Fort Hayes. The war was over, and Custer applied for and 
obtained leave to visit, by rail, Fort Riley, where his family was then 
located ; and for this, and other matters connected with that campaign, 
Custer was court-martialed! This proceeding appears to have been 
purely malicious, prompted by the dislike of some inferior officers over 
whom Custer had exercised pretty severe discipline. The charges 
were drawn by one whom he had severely reprimanded for drunken- 
ness. He had left Fort Wallace without orders, because, under the 
circumstances, he thought proper to report to his commander in 
person. To this they added the fact that he went on to Eiley to 
visit his family, and thus constructed a charge that he had abandoned' 
his post for his private convenience! Mean as this attack was, it was 
successful. Custer was suspended from rank and pay for one year! 

Meanwdiile another summer campaign was undertaken against the 
hostile Indians, with equally barren results. General Sully marched, 
in 1868, against the combined Cheyennes, Kioways, and Arapahoes, 
whom he struck near the present Camp Supply. If this was a " drawn 
battle," that is the best that can be said of it. Sully retired, badly 
crippled, and made no further attempts. At the same time General 
"Sandy" Forsythe, with a company of scouts and plainsmen enlisted 
for the purpose, was hunting for the hostile Sioux on the northern 
affluents of the Republican. He found them. They also found him. 
Of his total force of fifty-one men, six were killed and twenty 
wounded ; all their horses were cupturcd, and the command was only 
saved from annihilation by the arrival of reinforcements. The Xoble 
Red Man evidently understood his business better than the Generals 
opposed to him. The people of Colorado grew sarcastic. Western 
people often do when mail and supplies are cut off for weeks at a time. 
It appeared that the mountain territories were in a fair way to be 
isolated from the rest of the country. California Joe, a scout Mho had 
been with several of the commanders, thus gave in his experience: 

" I've been with 'em when they started out after the Injuns on 
wheels — in an ambulance — as if they war goin' to a town funeral 



540 WESTERN WILDS, 

in the States, and they stood abont as much chance o' ketchin' the 
Injuns as a six-mule train would of ketchin' a pack o' coyotes. That 
sort o' work is only fun for the Injuns; ihey don't want any thing 
better. Ye ought to seen how they peppered it to us, and we doin' 
nothing all the time. Some war afraid the mules war a goin' to stam- 
pede and run off with all our grub, but that war onpossible ; for, 
besides the big loads of corn and bacon, thar war from eight to a 
dozen infantry men piled into every wagon. Ye'd ought to heard the 
quartermaster in charge o' the train try in' to drive the men outen the 
wagons and git them into the fight. He was an Irishman, and he sez 
to 'em: 'Git out of thim waggins. Yez 'ill hev me tried for disoba- 
dience ov orders for marchin' tin men in a waggin whin I've orders 
but for eight.' " 

But the rude common sense of General Sheridan, soon after his 
arrival on the plains, put an end to summer campaigning. He and 
Sherman united in asking for the restoration of Custer; and, on the 
12th of November, 1868, that officer, at the head of his command 
again, started out on his famous Washita campaign. Soon after the 
departure from Fort Dodge, on the Arkansas, the command was over- 
taken by a violent snow-storm; but this the commander thought all 
the more favorable to his plans. General Sheridan could only point 
out to Custer the neighborhood of the hostiles' camp, and leave all 
details to his judgment. AVitli four hundred wagons and a guard 
of infantry for them, and the Seventh Cavalry in fighting order, he 
pressed rapidly southward to the edge of the Indian country, where a 
camp was established for the wagons, as a base of supplies, and the 
cavalry pressed on. California Joe and other scouts accompanied the 
expedition, besides a small detachment of Osage Indians, headed by 
Little Beaver and Hard Rope, who did excellent service. After a 
terrible winter march, the command, 800 strong, arrived at the bluff 
of the Washita at midnight, and saw below them, in the moonlight, 
the hostile camp. It was evident, at a glance, that the Indians truj^ted 
implicitly in the old army habit of fighting them only in summer. 
They had no scouts out, and were buried in repose. The command 
was divided into four nearly equal detachments; and, by making wide 
detours, the Indian camp was completely surrounded before daylight. 
The night was terribly cold, but no fire could be lighted, and the 
suffering was intense. As Custer stood upon the brow of the hill, and 
peered through the darkness into the camj), he distinctly heard the 
cry of an Indian baby, borne through the cold, still air, and reflected 
with pain that, under the circumstances, there was so nuich probability 



THE NOBLE BED MAN. 



541 



that the troopers' bullets would make no distinction of a<^g or sex. 
Soon after daylight the attack was made. Although taken by sur- 
prise, the Indians fought desperately, but were utterly routed. It 
practically annihilated Black Kettle's band of Cheyenncs. A hun- 
dred and three warriors were killed, fifty-three squaws and children 
captured, eight hundred and seventy-five ponies taken, and a vast 
amount of other property. Of the force, two officers and nineteen 
men were killed, three officers and eleven men wounded. In the very 




RUDE SURGERY OF THE PLAINS. 



hour of victory Custer discovered that this was but one of a long line 
of villages extending down the Washita; but he had struck such 
terror that the others did not gather force sufficient to attack, and he 
returned to camp in safety. 

And here it may be noted that in plains' travel and fighting, tliere 
is no difficulty so great as dealing with the wounded. With all tlie 
appliances furnished our army surgeons, there must still be many 
deficiencies; and, with the ordinary plainsman, a bad wound is eithe;- 



542 WESTERX WILDS. 

certain death or a long and terrible struggle, in Mhich nothing saves 
the man but an iron constitution. In the old days a regular back- 
■\voods' science grew up among trappers and voyifgcnrs; they treated 
gunshot wounds and broken bones, extracted bullets and arrows, or 
amputated shattered limbs in a way that Avould have amazed the 
faculty, but was singularly successful. The camp-saw and a weP 
sharpened bowie-knife were their surgical instruments; their cauteries, 
hot irons ; and their tourniquets, a handkerchief twisted upon the 
limb with a stick run through the knot and turned to press upon the 
artery. Arrows were often drawn through the limb, the feathers 
having been cut oiF; and bullets flirted out of an incision quickly 
made with a sharp razor. In winter the wounded limb was almost 
frozen by snow or ice applied before the amputation ; in summer there 
was nothing for it but to suffer it through. An old voyageur, with 
but one arm, gave me an account of his losing the other, which made 
my "each particular hair to stand on end." The arm was completely 
shattered below the elbow; it was amputation or death, and the party- 
was a thousand miles from any surgeon. But with knife, saw, and 
red-hot iron the job was skillfully done; he survived such rude surgery 
without a shock to his fine constitution. 

After a brief rest Custer was again sent to the Washita, where he 
alternately negotiated with and threatened the savages until he had 
recovered some cajitives they held, and located the Indians near the 
forts. And here originated the difficulty between him and General 
W. B. Hazen, then in charge of the southern Indians — Custer main- 
taining that Satanta and Lone Wolfs bands of Kioways had been in 
the fight against him, Hazen denying it. It Avas six years before the 
matter was settled, Ilazen producing unquestionable evidence that he 
was right. We find evidences, from time to time, that Custer w^as 
somewhat hasty in his judgments, and very impulsive in giving ut- 
terance to them — in short, that he had some of the faults as well as all 
the virtues of a dashing, impetuous man. 

For two years there was peace on the plains; but in the spring of 
1873 the first Yellowstone expedition went out. From Yankton the 
Seventh Cavalry, with Custer in command, marched all the way to 
I'^ort Rice, six hundred miles, Mrs. Custer and other ladies accom- 
panying the column on horseback. There the ladies halted, but it 
was not till July that the entire expedition started — cavalry, infantry, 
artillery and scouts, numbering seventeen hundred men — all under 
command of Major-General D. S. Stanley. The main object was to 
explore the country, and open a way for the surveyors of the Northern 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 543 

Pacific Railroad. Custer, as usual, was put iu the lead, and soon after 
reaching the Yellowstone had several skirmishes with the Indians, 
who were desperately resolved against the passage of a railroad 
tlirough the country. If they could only have looked forward over 
the next year of the financial world, they might have been spared all 
anxiety ou that jjoint. During this march the sutler and veterinary 
surgeon of the Seventh Cavalry were murdered by a Sioux called 
Rain-in-the-Face ; and out of that matter grew the latter's hostility to 
Custer, and perhaps the latter's tragic death three years after. 

Early in 1'8'74 began the memorable Black Hills expedition, an un- 
dertaking that began in the grossest injustice and ended in wholesale 
murder. From the first discovery in California, rumors had con- 
stantly prevailed of great gold placers iu the Black Hills, but the re- 
gion was a mystery. The Warren Expedition, in 1857, had gone 
around the whole district, but the Sioux emphatically prohibited them 
from entering it, stating that it was sacred ground. Other expeditions 
proved that the region was a great oval, about a hundred by sixty 
miles in extent, cut up by numerous low mountain ranges covered 
with timber y that it possessed, as do all such mountainous regions, a 
more rainy climate than the plains, and scores of little valleys of 
great fertility. It is obvious, from the lay of the country, that the re- 
gion can not contain any great area of agricultural land, but quite 
probable that it abounds in good mountain pastures and timbered 
hills. The tenacity with which. the Sioux clung to it only the more 
convinced the Westerners that it contained gold by millions, and 
many were the exciting stories told. The treaty of 1868 confirmed it 
to Red Cloud and other chiefs in person in Washington, and 
the Black Hills were declared inviolable — a section of the Indian 
reservation never to be trespassed upon by white men. The Custer 
expedition of 1874 was undertaken in direct violation of that treaty, 
and upon the half-avowed principle that treaties were not to be kept 
with Indians if whites needed the country in question. Consistent 
with this ill- faith the expedition was made the occasion of ridiculous 
exaggeration, not to say downright falsehood. Correspondents were 
sent along with descriptive powers suited to an earthly Eden, and 
they described one ; explorers went to find gold by millions, and they 
found it. The country needed a sensation, and the Government took 
the contract of supplying it. When the expedition had returned, and 
the brilliant correspondents had made their report. General Hazen un- 
dertook to moderate popular enthusiasm by portraying the high plains 
as they generally are; but the public rejected him, and found in his 



544 WESTERN WILDS. 

testimony only another evidence of his animosity to General Custer, 
The general result was, settlement of the Black Hills before the In- 
dian title was extinguished, and another exjjensive and fruitless In- 
dian war. 

The next year Rain-in-the-Face, a noted brave of the Uncpapa 
Sioux, was arrested for the murder of Dr. Honzinger and Mr. 
Baliran, of the Yellowstone Expedition of 1873. He was brought 
before Custer, thoroughly examined, and sentenced to death, but man- 
aged to escape, joined the hostile band of Sitting Bull, and sent word 
that he was prepared to take revenge for his imprisonment. There is 
evidence, though not quite conclusive, that this Indian gave Custer 
the death-blow. Here it is necessary to point out an important dis- 
tinction in the organization of difierent bands. The ordinary Indian 
government is patriarchal, and in many bands a majority of the fam- 
ilies are in some way related to the chief; but though the chieftain- 
ship is nominally hereditary, its continuance in any line finally de- 
pends on the prowess of the claimant. If he fails in any particular, 
another chief at once supplants him. Hence the absurdity of the plan 
generally adopted by our Government of trying t(^ choose chiefs for 
the Indians, or to recognize one rather than another. If th<&. young- 
men can not have the leader they want, they generally join the " hos- 
tiles." These bands are made up on an entirely different plan — by 
convenience rather than relationship. Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, or 
some other active fighter, gets a repjitation as war chief, and all the 
discontented braves join him ; as a rule there are few women in such a 
band, and the number of men is, therefore, apt to be underrated on 
distant vicAV. Still more distinct is a third class, commonly known as 
" dog soldiers." These are outcasts or runaways from all the tribes, 
who get together in squads of from five to five hundred; sometimes 
they dissolve and melt into the original tribes, sometimes are merged 
into some one big tribe, or simply wear out. Their communication at 
first is entirely by the " sign language ;" if together long enough, a 
new Indian dialect arises from the jargon of so many tongues. It has 
occasionally happened that a large band of "dog soldiers" would cap- 
ture women enough for their wants, conquer a territory for them- 
selves, and in time grow into an entirely "new tribe. Thus the 
Comanches, Arapahoes and Apaches are said to have descended from 
the original Shoshonees; while the Navajoes resulted from the union 
of part of the old Aztecs with an offshoot of the Shoshonees — or of the 
original Athabascan stock, from which the latter sprang. 

In 1876, Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse led the hostile Sioiix, and to 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 545 

them rapidly gathered all the discontented young braves from the 
agencies. As near as can be determined the latter chief began the 
season with eight hundred braves — the former with nearly twice as 
many. Their position was the best that military art could have se- 
lected. From it the afifluents of the Yellowstone ran northward; the 
lower affluents of the Missouri eastward; on the east and north it was 
doubly protected by the " bad lands :" north-west and west were 
rugged mountains, and southward the high plains stretched for many 
hundred miles. Around the extreme outer edge of the hostile coun- 
try, from north-west and north to north-east and east, ran the Mis- 
souri ; on that stream were located all the agencies, and from them, 
through " friendly " Indians, went a constant stream of supplies to the 
warriors. By careful examination of the books (after the damage had 
been done), it was proved that these bands received in five months 
56 cases of arms, containing 1,120 Winchester and Remington rifles, 
and 413,000 rounds of patent ammunition, besides considerable quan- 
tities of loose powder, lead and primers. It takes many such lessons 
as this to convince the American people that this machine we call gov- 
ernment is the most awkward, expensive and inefficient of all human 
inventions ; and yet the lesson is not learned, for, in spite of daily 
multiplying evidences of its inherent inefficiency, ncM' parties start up 
every year urging that government should run our schools and 
churches, our mills, mines and workshops, our social, moral and in- 
dustrial institutions. Daily is the lesson thrust upon us, that whatever 
government does is done wrong ; and daily we hear fresh demands that 
government should do things which it was never organized to do. 
The plain English of the foregoing figures is, that government first 
armed the sav^ages with repeating rifles, then sent an inferior force to 
attack them on ground of their own choosing. 

Three columns were to proceed from three points and converge on the 
hostile region : Gibbon eastward from Fort Ellis, Montana ; Crook 
northward from Fort Fetterman; and Terry westward from Fort Abe 
Lincoln, just across the Missouri from Bismarck, Dakota. Of course 
they could not start at the same time. General Crook, with seven 
hundred men and forty days' supplies, started the 1st of March and 
reached and destroyed the village of Crazy Horse, on Powder River, 
the 17th of March. But the Indians got away with most of their ani- 
mals and supplies. The Gibbon column did not figure greatly till 
the junction with Terry on the Yellowstone. Meanwhile the Terry 
column, in which General Custer was the leading spirit, was delayed 

in a score of ways. It could not start as early as that of Crook any- 
35 



54G WESTERN WILDS. 

how, as it was to move through a cokler hititude, and, while waiting, 
Custer was summoned to Washington. The Belknap investigation 
was in progress, and Hon. Heister Clymer, Chairman of the House 
Committee, got it into his head that Custer could give important in- 
formation. In vain did Custer dispatch that he really knew nothing 
about the case, and Terry urge that his call to Washington avouIcI 
delay and imperil the expedition. Clymer was all the more certain 
Custer had important information, and should be brought before the 
committee and rigidly interrogated. On the 6th of March, Custer tel- 
egraphed a request that he might be examined at Fort Lincoln. This 
Clymer flatly refused. Custer had to go to Washington, and there it 
was found that he really knew nothing about the case, and had only, 
as was natural to one of his impulsive nature, talked freely about what 
he had heard. But Heister Clymer had the satisfaction of compelling 
a General to come before his committee, and delaying Custer's march 
after Sitting Bull a whole month. Then President Grant took hold. 
The grim, impassive, hard-to-change General Grant took it into his 
head that Custer's talk about the case had been an intentional affront 
to him — why, no one ever knew. He refused to see Custer, though 
the latter repeatedly called at the White House, and once sent in a 
card asking in plain terms for a reconciliation. 

Custer then called at the office of General Sherman, only to learn 
that the latter was in New York, and might not return for some time; 
then, on the night of May 1, took the train for Chicago. , Next day 
Sherman returned, and telegraphed to General Sheridan at Chicago, 
that Custer " was not justified in leaving here without seeing me 
(Sherman) or the President," and ordered that Custer remain at Saint 
Paul till further orders. Somebody was evidently playing sad havoc 
with Custer's character and plans. He had, perhaps, talked too 
much — that w'as his fault, if any thing — but it is impossible for the 
non-military mind to see any other harm he had done. He was in 
genuine distress. He telegraphed at length to General Sherman, and 
then to President Grant ; and the final result was that, after a deal of 
red tape all around, he received permission to go with the expedition, in 
command of his regiment, the Seventh U. S. Cavalry. The Terry col- 
umn consisted of the Seventh Cavalry entire, three companies of the 
Sixth and Seventeenth Infantry, with four Gatling guns and a small 
detachment of Indian scouts, about eight hundred men in all. Gibbon 
was coming in from the west with four hundred men, and Crook had 
made another start from the south with fifteen hundred men. Thus 
there were twenty-seven hundred armed men, distributed on the 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 547 

circumference of a circle about three hundred miles wide, to concen- 
trate near the center where the hostiles were supposed to be. 

Crook first found the enemy. On the 8th of June, his force had a 
skirmish with the Sioux, and repulsed them. A Aveek later his Indian 
scouts reported that they had seen Gibbon's command on the other 
side of the hostile Sioux, on the Tongue River. On the 16th Crook 
pushed rapidly forward towards the hostiles. Next morning Sitting 
Bull attacked his camp in great force and with astonishing vigor. It 
was not exactly a surprise, but all must agree that Crook gained no 
advantage, and that Sitting Bull handled his forces admirably. Twice 
during the action he succeeded in getting his warriors into positions 
where they poured an enfilading fire into Crook's command. Mean- 
while Generals Terry and Gibbon had communicated, and the latter 
had shown, by thorough scouting, that the hostiles were as yet all south 
of the Yellowstone. A glance at the map will show that the Powder, 
Tongue, Rosebud, and Big Horn run north into the Yellowstone, and 
the Little Horn into the Big Horn ; and that, after thele various scouts, 
it was certain the hostiles were somewhere on those streams. Accord- 
ingly Terry commenced scouting for them in that direction. So far 
the general plan had worked well ; its defect now appeared to be that 
Gibbon and Terry were separated from Crook by at least a hundred 
miles of mountainous country, and that in that region somewhere were 
the hostiles, in good position to move either way. The whole object 
of this plan was to prevent the Indians getting away without a fight, 
and as to that it was a perfect success. The contingency of the In- 
dians being well prepared for a fight had apparently not been consid- 
ered. 

Careful scouting narrowed the field, and finally it was decided that 
the Indians were either on the head of the Rosebud or on the Little 
Horn, a ridge about fifteen miles wide separating the two streams. 
Terry and Gibbon, on the Yellowstone, near the mouth of Tongue 
River, then held a council, and decided that Custer's column should 
be pushed forward to strike the first blow. Crook was too far south 
to bo considered in this arrangement at all. The general plan is 
briefly stated in Terry's dispatch to General Sheridan, from the for- 
mer's camp at the mouth of Rosebud, just before the final movement, 
as follows: 

Traces of a large and recent camp of Indians have been discovered twenty or thirty 
miles up the Rosebud. Gibbon's column will move this morning on the north side of 
the Yellowstone (see map), where it will be ferried across by the supply steamer, and 
Hihence it will proceed to the mouth of the Little Horn, and so on. Custer will go up 



548 WESTERN WILDS. 

the Rosebud to-morrow with liis whole regiment, and thence to the head-waters of tiie 
Little Horn, thence down the Little Horn. 

The object, of course, was for Custer to head off the escape of the 
Indians towards the east, while Gibbon would move up the Big Horn 
and intercept them in that direction. It has been absurdly said 
that Custer disobeyed or exceeded the general orders he received from 
Terry; but, in fact, those orders were so very "general," that, aside 
from the instructions as to route and sending scouts to seek Gibbon, 
they might have been condensed to, "Go ahead, do your best; I trust 
all to you." Similar orders directed the march of Gibbon up the Big 
Horn. Should both columns march equally, all else being equal, it 
would result that they would come together on the Big Horn, some 
distance above (south) the junction of the Little Horn. There ap- 
pears to have been no special order given as to rates of marching ; and 
so far the witnesses do not agree very well as to what either com- 
mander was to do if he struck the Indians first. The reasonable sup- 
position is, that it was understood beforehand they were to fight on 
sight. It was hardly to be supposed that Sitting Bull would accom- 
modate them by slowly retiring before either, until the other could 
come up in his rear. Custer's command received rations for fifteen 
days. Thus supplied, and thus directed with only general orders and 
j)lenary powers under them, Custer and his cavalry set out up the 
Rosebud on the afternoon of June 22, 1876, which is the last account 
we have from him in person. Thereafter his movements are known 
only by the report of Major Reno, who succeeded to the command of 
that section of the regiment which survived; the statements of various 
officers in the same command ; the evidence of Curly, an Upsaroka 
scout, M^ho alone survived the massacre, and some unsatisfactory ac- 
counts from the enemy. From all these sources, and a careful exam- 
ination of the trails and, battle-ground, the following facts are proved : 

On the 22d, Custer marched his command about twelve miles up 
the Rosebud, and encamped. On the 23d they continued up the Rose- 
bud for about thirty-five miles, perhaps a little less. On the 24th 
they advanced rapidly twenty-eight miles, and finding a fresh Indian 
trail, halted for reports from scouts. By night they had received full 
reports, and about 9:30 P. M., Custer called the officers together and 
informed them that the Indians were in the valley of the Little Horn, 
and that to surprise them they must cross over from one stream to the 
other in the night. Accordingly they moved off at 11 P. M. ; but about 
2 A. M. of the 25th, the scouts gave notice that the command could 
not get across the divide before daylight ; so a halt was made, provis- 



THE NOBLE BED MAN. 549 

ions prepared, and breakfast eaten. Right here, apparently, Custer's 
original plan failed. It would seem to have been his intention to re- 
peat the Washita battle, and attack at sunrise. By 8 A. M., the com- 
mand was nearing the Little Horn. Here the regiment was divided. 
Major Reno took command of companies M, A and G; Captain Ijcu- 
teen of H, D, and K ; Custer retained companies C, E, F, I and ] ., 
and Captain McDougall, with company B, was placed as rear-guaid 
with the pack-train. As they moved down the creek towards the 
Little Horn, Custer was on the right bank, Major Reno on the left 
bank, and Captain Benteen some distance to the left of Reno, and en- 
tirely out of sight. As near as can be determined the command had 
marched some ninety miles since leaving Terry ; but it is claimed by 
some that this last night and forenoon march was much longer than 
reported. 

About noon they came in sight of the Indian camp, on the opposite 
side of the river, which at that point runs a little west of north, with 
a considerable bend to the north-east. Enclosed within this bend, on 
the left (west) side of the stream, began the Indian camps, which con- 
tinued thence a long way down the Little Horn. As the command 
now enters the battle in three divisions, we must consider them sepa- 
rately. As far as Custer's plan can be known, it was for Reno to 
cross, attack the upper end of the Indian camp, and drive them down 
stream if possible ; at any rate, to employ the warriors fully, while Custer 
himself, to be reinforced by Benteen, should gallop around the bend 
of the Little Horn and down some distance, then cross, and attack 
from that side. It ^vas evident that the time for a complete surprise 
was past. The last order Reno had from Custer was : " Move forward 
at as rapid a gait as you think prudent, charge afterwards, and the 
whole outfit will support you." Pursuant thereto, Reno with his 
command took a sharp trot for two miles down the stream to a con- 
venient ford; then crossed, deployed with the Ree scouts on his left, 
and opened the battle, the Indians retiring before him for about two 
and a half miles. And here comes in the first doubtful proceeding. 
Reno says : " I saw that I was being drawn into some trap. * * * I 
could not see Custer or any other support, and at the same time tlie 
ground seemed to grow Indians. They were running tow'ards me in 
swarms, and from all directions." He retired a little to a piece of 
woods, dismounted, had his men fight on foot, and advanced again. 
He says that the odds were five to one, and he saw that he must re- 
gain high ground or be surrounded. Accordingly he remounted his 
men, charged across the stream, some distance below where he had 



550 WESTERN WILDS. 

crossed before, and hurried to the top of the bluff, losing three officers 
and twenty-nine men killed, and seven men wounded in this operation. 
In fact, nearly his entire loss occurred in this retreat, men and horses 
being shot from behind. It would seem to a civilian, who has, per- 
haps, no right to criticise an Indian fight, that it w^ould have been far 
cheaper, and more nearly in accordance ^with his orders, to stick to 
the woods on the west side and fight it out for a few hours. Tiie sur- 
geon present says there was only one man wounded before JReno aban- 
doned the timber. 

We turn now to Benteen. That officer, having been ordered to 
the extreme left while marching down the affluent towards the Little 
Horn, was necessarily several miles off when the rest of the com- 
mand turned to the right and dow7i the Little Horn. Finding no 
Indians, he recrossed the affluent and marched down the trail left by 
Custer. About three miles, as he says, from where Reno first crossed, 
he met a sergeant carrying orders to Captain McDougall to hurry up 
the pack-train ; a little further on he met Trumpeter Martin with 
an order from Custer, written by Adjutant McCook, and the last he 
ever penned, which read, "Benteen, come on; big village; be quick; 
bring packs." About a mile further on he came in sight of the 
Little Horn, and saw Reno retreating up the bluffs. He also saw 
" twelve or fifteen dismounted men fighting on the plain, the Indians 
there numbering about 900 ! " About 2:30 P. M., he came up to 
where Reno had gathered his forces on the right bluff. The di- 
vision of the regiment into three battalions was made at 10:30 A. ]\L; 
Benteen says that his scout and return to the main trail occupied about 
one hour and a half, bringing it to noon. How he consumed the 
time from then till 2:30 P. M., none of the reports inform us. The 
distance traversed could not have been over five miles, if we can 
trust any thing to the military map. It also appears from the re- 
port that Boston Custer, brother of the General, had time to come to 
the rear and pack-train, get a fresh horse, and go back to Custer, 
passing Benteen, and be killed in the final slaughter. The reports 
by various survivors seem to leave us in ignorance of much that we 
should like to know. 

It was now near 3 P. M., and as senior Major Reno had in com- 
mand his own and Benteen's battalions, and the company guard- 
ing the pack-train : Companies A, B, D, G, H, K and M, numbering 380 
men, commanded by Captains Benteen, Weir, French and McDougall, 
and Lieutenants Godfrey, Mathey, Gibson, Edgerly, Wallace, Yar- 
num and Hare. With them was Surgeon Porter. These officers are 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 551 

restrained, to a great extent, by military courtesy, but as far as their 
statements have been made public they indicate that there was no 
very determined eiFort made to aid Custer. Major Reno waited on 
the bluff awhile (length of time not settled yet), then moved slowly 
down the stream, and sent Captain Weir with his command to open 
communication with Custer. Weir soon returned with the informa- 
tion that the Indians were coming en masse; and, in a little while 
after, Reno's force was furiously attacked. We learn at this stage of 
the report that it was now 6 P. M. It seems impossible to stretch 
any action of which mention is made so as to cover the time between 
three and six. And yet it appears from an examination of the 
ground that Custer could not, at three, have been more than three 
miles away. And, in the interim, the little squad of dismounted 
men whom Benteen saw across the river, had beaten off the Indians 
opposed to them and succeeded in reaching Reno luithout loss / But 
Reno's command was attacked, as aforesaid, about 6 P. M,; held its 
ground with the loss of 18 killed and 46 wounded, and had the 
enemy beaten off by 9 P. M. There is every evidence that Reno 
behaved with coolness and bravery, and Benteen with proper ac- 
tivity, during this battle ; and still the report does not inform us as 
to the exercise of those qualities earlier in the afternoon. 

And where all this time was Custer? The trail, the heaps of dead 
and the few accounts from eye-witnesses tell a plain story. He came 
at high speed to a ford of the Little Horn which would have 
brought him about the middle of the Indian camps. But in this 
short space of time the Indians had vanquished Reno, and their 
whole force were there to oppose him. He gave back from the ford, 
and the Indians followed in overwhelming numbers. They were 
now on the way he had come, and he continued his retreat along the 
bluffs down the river. He had in his command but four hundred 
and twenty men, and the Indians must have numbered nearly two 
thousand. Who can tell the agony of that terrible retreat and last 
desperate struggle? When the command had reached a point nearly 
a mile from the ford, Custer evidently saw that a sacrifice was neces- 
sary to save, if possible, a remnant of his command. To this end he 
chose his brother-in-law, Lieutenant James Calhoun ; with him was 
Lieutenant Crittenden, their company having been selected to cover 
the retreat. They were found in line all dead together, the offi- 
cers in their proper places in the rear, the company having died 
fighting to the last man, 

A little further on another desperate stand was made. Then a 



552 WESTERN WILDS. 

mile from the scene of Calhoun's death, on the ridge parallel to the 
stream, Captain Keogh's company made a stand to cover the retreat. 
Keogh had evidently nerved himself for death. He was an old and 
able soldier. He was an officer in the Papal service when Garibaldi 
made war upon the Pope, and had served in the army of the Potomac 
during the war. Down went he and his company, slaughtered in 
position, every man maintaining his place and fighting desperately to 
the last. 

Custer, with the remnant of his command, had taken up his posi- 
tion on the next hill. Curly, the Upsaroka scout, tells us that he 
ran to Custer when he saw that the command was doomed, and of- 
fered to show him a way of escape. General Custer dropped his 
head, as if in thought, for one moment, then suddenly jerking it up 
again he stamped his foot and waving Curly away w-ith his sword, 
turned to rejoin his men. In that brief interval of thought he had 
decided to die with his men rather than attempt to escape. There had 
been a short lull in the fight, while the Sioux were maneuvering for a 
better position. The firing now recommenced with more fury than 
ever. Curly dashed into a ravine, let down his hair so as to resem- 
ble a Sioux as much as possible, mounted a horse, and joined in the 
next charge ; but watched his opportunity to put on a Sioux blanket, 
and in the heat of the battle slipped away. 

Custer had now made his last stand. It v*'as on the most com- 
manding point of the ridge ; and there with Captain Yates, Colonel 
Cook, Captain Custer, Lieutenant Riley and thirty-two men of 
Yates' command, he fought desperately to the last. One by one his 
companions fell around him. Nearer and nearer came the Sioux, 
like hounds baying a lion, dashing around and firing into the com- 
mand from all sides. Finally the whites made a sort of barricade of 
their dead horses, and again for a few minutes held the savages at 
bay. Then Rain-in-the-Face, bravest Indian in the North-west, 
gathered his most trusty followers for a hand to hand charge. 
Custer fought like a tiger. With blood streaming from half a dozen 
gaping wounds, he killed or disabled three of the enemy with his 
saber, and when his last support was gone, as he lunged desperately 
at his nearest enemy, Rain-in-the-Face kept his oath and shot the 
heroic commander dead. 

But the battle was not over. Captain Custer and Captain Smith 
tried to cut their way back to the river, and in the ravine leading 
that way twenty-six men were found dead. The heroic remnant 
made their last stand near the river, and there every man w^as found 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 553 

dead in position, every officer in his place, every wound in front. 
The awful tragedy ended with the day. General Custer lay dead on 
the hill. Beside him lay Colonel Tom Custer, who enlisted as a 
private at sixteen, was an officer at nineteen, and had been twice dec- 
orated for bravery in action. In the same slaughter died two more 
of the family. Boston Custer, forage-master to the Seventh Cavalry, hac' 
sought the open air life of the plains to ward off a tendency to con- 
sumption which early manifested itself. He avoided a lingering 
death by a heroic exit, lit subject for epic poem or thrilling ro- 
mance. And there was young "Autie" Reed, a mere boy, named 
after General Custer himself, his nephew, son of the older sister, who 
had, in fact, reared the General. It was cruel that he, too, shoulo! 
die in this fearful massacre. Autie was just out of school and wa;' 
eager to go on the plains "with Uncle Autie." To please the lao 
Custer had him and a class-mate appointed herders, to drive the cat- 
tle accompanying the column. He had come with his uncle on thi.^ 
last scout, and here met with his death, equally brave with the 
bravest. Lieutenant James Calhoun, the remaining member of this 
relationship, had married Maggie E. Custer, the General's only 
sister, in 1872 ; and in every emergency showed himself worthy of 
adoption into this brave family. Cheered on by his voice, every 
man of his company died in place. With him was Lieutenant Crit- 
tenden of the Twelfth Infantry, a mere boy, just appointed, but cool as 
a veteran through all the terrible scene. A whole brotherhood of 
brave officers were cut off; for Custer had gathered around him a 
circle of choice spirits, who admired his dash, and emulated his 
bravery. There was the Adjutant, Col. Wm. W. Cook, a Canadian 
by birth, who had enlisted in the Twenty-fourth New York Cavalry 
at the beginning of the war, and risen to be its Colonel. And Cap- 
tain Yates, who enlisted as a private at sixteen and worked his way up. 
They used to call his company the "band-box troop," they were so 
neat in their dress and equipments ; but every man of them died at 
his post. The last commander of all was Captain Algernon E. Smith, 
who won renown at the storming of Fort Fisher; was wounded, and 
for his bravery made brevet Major. But, perhaps, the saddest loss of 
all was that of Lieutenant William Van W. Reily. He was of he- 
roic stock. His father, an officer in the navy, went down with his 
ship in the Indian Ocean a short time before William was born. 
He left his widowed mother for this expedition, and died in com- 
pany with all the brave men who then made their last fight. The 



554 WESTERN WILDS. 

night fell upon all these brave officers antl throe hundred men, lying 
dead upon the field. 

The full history of the battle is not yet known. This I say, despite 
the fact that military reports have been made by the commanders, 
and published by authority. But they leave much unknown. In 
a quiet way there has been much crimination and recrimination; 
one party has accused Reno and Benteen of cowardice or disobe- 
dience ; the other, including General Grant, has charged that Cus- 
ter exceeded his orders and sacrificed his command. Without adopt- 
ing the extreme view of either side, this would seem to a civilian 
about the correct state of the case : The regiment attacked a force of 
Indians outnumbering the soldiers two or three to one, and well 
armed, ready for fight, well posted, in broad day, when men and 
animals were flitigued, and so insured defeat; then Reno and Ben- 
teen, seeing that retreat was a certainty, thought best to keep out 
of the fight, perhaps supposing that Custer would, in like manner, 
retreat after a brief skirmish. I can not see that victory would have 
been possible in any event — no matter if the whole force had at- 
tacked at once, as originally intended. 

This disaster, of course, spoiled the original plan. General Gibbon 
came up with reinforcements, and the Indians moved. Successive 
minor battles and skirmishes followed, by which, though no one great 
victory was gained, the hostiles were slowly worn out and scattered. 
Many of the braves made their way back to the agencies, others 
retreated to less accessible positions in the mountains, and Sitting 
Bull, with a remnant, retreated into British America, whence he has 
since, with much pow-wow and flourish, returned. The war in that 
section soon died out, but a few words additional may be appro- 
priate of the Indians in general. A glance at the map of Aborginal 
America will show that very few of the Indian nations have retained 
their original locations; but it must not be judged therefrom that 
numerous tribes have become extinct. The Indian population of this 
country at the landing of Columbus has been greatly exaggerated. 
It is demonstrable that all that part of the United States east of the 
Mississippi never contained half a million Indians ; some authorities 
say a quarter of a million. It is apparent at a glance that a country 
like Ohio will sustain four hundred times as many people in the civ- 
ilized as in the savage state. When men live upon game and the 
spontaneous products of the earth, it must be a fertile land indeed 
which will sustain an average of one person to the square mile. 
When we pass to the Indian of the plains the original population was 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 555 

sparser still. But there we find some of the races on the soil where 
first discovered. The Sioux have steadily contracted their eastern 
border, while maintaining their western border intact. But if, leaving 
history we take tradition, we find that the Indian tribes have been 
engaged for centuries in a series of migrations, the northern ones as a 
rule slowly pushing southward. As all our mountain chains run 
north and south, it follows that the people of this country can not 
grow into distinct races as in Europe, where different climates and 
soils are partitioned off by natural barriers. Hence the Indian, from 
Manitoba to the Gulf of Mexico is one; hence, too, half a million 
men of the West rose in arms to prevent the mouth of the Mississippi 
being "held by an alien government." Of the Indian migrations, 
the best authenticated are those of the Shoshonees and Sioux, which 
are referred to in the following legend, as related to the interpreter 
by Susuceicha, a Sioux chief: 

"Ages past the Lacotas (or Dakotas, i. e., Sioux) lived in a land far 
above the sun of winter. 

" Here then the Shoshonee had all, but these basins were yet full of 
water, and the buffalo ranged even to the Salt Land (Utah). 

"Ages passed. The Shoshonees gave place to the Scarred Arms 
(Cheyennes). The Lacotas came toward the sun and fought long with 
the Scarred Arms. A great party came far into the inner plain 
(Laramie) and fell into a snare ; all were killed by the Scarred Arms 
but six; these hid in a hole in the mountain. 

" They built a fire and dressed their wounds ; they hoped to stay 
many days till the Scarred Arms left the plain. But a form rose 
from the dark corner of the cave ; it was a woman — old as the red 
mountain that was scarred by ^yaukan. Her hair was like wool; she 
was feeble and wrinkled. She spoke : 

" ' Children, you have been against the Scarred Arms. You alone 
live. I know it all. But your fire has waked me, and the full time 
of my dream has come. Listen : 

"'Long ago the Shoshonees visited the Lacotas; the prairie took in 
the blood of many Lacota braves, and I was made captive. The 
Shoshonees brought me here, but I was not happy. I fled. I was 
weak. I took refuge in this cave. 

"'But look! Where are the Shoshonees? The Lacotas will soon 
know them, and bring from their lodges many scalps and medicine 
dogs. They have fled before the Scarred Arms. One-half crossed 
the snow hills toward sunset; the other went toward the sun, and now 
bunt the buffalo east of the Ispanola's earth lodges. But my eyes 



556 WESTERN WILDS. 

were sealed for ages till my people should come. The Scarred Arms 
have long thought this land their own, but it is not. Waukantunga 
gives it to the Lacotas; they shall possess the land of their daughter's 
captivity. But why wait ye? Go gather your warriors and attack 
the Scarred Arms. Fear not, their scalps are yours.' 

" The warriors did return. They found the Scarred Arms at the 
foot of the mountain, and drove them to the South. Our grateful 
braves then sought the mountain to reverence the medicine woman, 
who told them so many good things. But woman and cave were 
gone. There was only a cleft in the mountain side from which came 
a cold stream of water. Then the Lacotas made peace with the 
Scarred Arms. Each year our warriors visit the Shoshonees for scalps 
and medicine dogs, and each of our braves, as he passes the old 
woman's spring, stops to quench his thirst and yield a tribute of ven- 
eration." 

The Shoshonees not only have a legend answering to this, but name 
the various times Avhen the Comanches, Arapahoes, and Apaches 
seceded from the main body. Thus this great colony of the Athabas- 
can race, slowly moving southward, has sent off branches right and 
left, from the Saskatchewan to the Rio Grande and Gulf of California. 

It would surprise some people who have been indignant over the 
death of Ouster and his companions to learn how small, comparatively, 
is the number of hostile Indians. A strip of 500 miles wide, from 
the Missouri to the Pacific, is rarely visited by hostiles; and at no 
time for the past ten years have more than one-fifth of the race been 
in arras or even threatening. All the border States except Texas are 
free from hostiles. Of the nine Territories only three have been seri- 
ously troubled since 1867, and the three Pacific States have had even 
a longer exemption. Within that time Indian hostilities have been 
confined to three districts. First, and greatest, is that strip of mount- 
ain, forest, and desert including all Northern Wyoming, South-eastern 
and Eastern Montana, and a small portion of Western Dakota. Next 
are the highlands of Western Texas, raided by the Comanches and 
their allies ; and lastly that part of New Mexico and Arizona dom- 
inated by the Apaches. To judge how contemptible a performance 
an Indian war is, how small the glory in proportion to the aggrava- 
tion, be it noted that the whole Apache race numbers less than 8,000, 
and can not possibly mount 2,000 warriors. 

If it be decided that the 300,000 Indians in the United States (or 
rather the 200,000 wild ones) are to " die off," then by all means let a 
"feeding policy" be pursued; it is so much cheaper to kill them by 



THE NOBLE BED MAN. ^^'^ 

kindness than by war. Since 1860 the average cost of killing Indians 
has been about $500,000 each. One-tenth that amount would stuti one 
to death. If, I say, the theory of final extermination be adopted, the 
most Christian and, by all odds, the cheapest plan wou.d be this : Let 
central depots be established along the Pacific Railway and at other 
accessible points, and give general notice that every Indian who will 
come there and live shall have all the bread, meat, coff"ee, sugar, 
whisky and tobacco he can consume. The last man of them would be 
dead in ten years, and at a cost not exceeding twenty per cent, of the 
killing price. Since the Mormons began the feeding policy with their 
nearest Indian neighbors the latter have died ofi" much faster than 
when at war. They can't stand petting any more than a rabbit. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

PROSPECTING AND MINING. 

Let us "prospect," courteous reader, and find, locate, develop, 
prove up, and get a patent for a silver mine. We will start from 
Cincinnati ; the reader may do the hard work, and the author will 
contribute experience and a free talk for his share of the capital. 
Imprimis, then, we need not look for a silver mine in this part of 
the country; but we can hear of many. For silver and gold, once 
brought near the surface by cosmic upheaval, are subject to wash 
and removal the same as other minerals; and as "drift," the loose 
material of the earth's surface, is made up of the wear and tear of 
all kinds of rocks, it often contains enough gold or silver to mislead. 
Sometimes a rocky hollow furnishes a natural trough to concentrate 
this washed mineral, and then you have a wonderful story — we will 
hear half a dozen of them in our trip across Southern Indiana. If 
you can find an Indian tradition to match it, your " hoodoo " is com- 
plete ; for nothing sets a thing of that sort off so beautifully as an 
Indian tradition. If you can add to it that some poor consumptive, 
years ago wandered into the wilderness, and was miraculously cured 
by an "Injun doctor," who lived in a wigwam back of a rock, and told 
him about the mine, you will then have the average legend about all 
the silver mines reported in Ohio and Indiana. 

Of course there can be no such thing as a real gold or silver mine 
in the comparatively level strata of these States; we must find a 
region where the strata have been heaved up and split across — where 
the backbone of the continent is laid open. For illustration take a 
jelly-cake of many layers to represent any part of the earth where 
the rock strata are in place and undisturbed; then bend it to a sharp 
ridge and let the ragged edges wear away; the crevices between what 
were the bottom layers will be exposed on top. Precisely this has hap- 
pened in raining regions ; and after these contact veins were formed, 
the mountain has often been split directly across its regular formation, 
thus forming true fissure veins. But uniformity is no part of nature's 
design, and for every perfect specimen of any kind she produces hun- 
dreds of abortion.s, imitations, and half-made specimens. We shall see 

(558) 



PROSPECTING AND MINING. 559 

how these mislead us Avhen we reach the mines. Going on westward, 
then, we find various rocks coming to the surflice in this order : In 
Eastern Indiana the Silurian, next the Devonian, and then the Car- 
boniferous, which extend to the Mississippi. After a short strip of 
older rock we again cross some carboniferous, in Missouri, and after 
getting into Kansas every day's travel for six hundred miles brings 
us over newer rock. First is a narrow strip of that limestone which, 
if all rocks are in place, lies just above the Coal Measures; then we 
pass rapidly over rocks of successively later eras, and near Wichita, 
enter on the "Chalk-stones" (Cretaceous). All this was made at so 
late a day that we need not look for true coal even — much less for gold 
or silver — but salt and alkali soon become disgustingly plenty. Still 
further on we find newer rock, and near the foot of the mountains are 
the fossil remains of huge creatures which lived just before man came 
on earth. And out of this very recent formation suddenly rises the 
Pike's Peak range, consisting largely of the oldest known rocks. 
So science has decided that long after Pike's Peak rose to mountain 
height its bases were washed by inland seas, and that the eastern one 
was among the last sections of America to become dry land. 

We enter the mountains and observe that we are now where the 
lower strata have been heaved up and split across, and therefore min- 
erals may abound. We examine all the streams carefully for "float"— 
fragments broken off the croppings of some mineral vein and washed 
down. If the float shows silver or lead, good; if iron or copper, it 
is not to be despised; but quartz crystals, iron pyrites, and glitter- 
ing flakes of mica will certainly attract your eye, my gentle pilgrim. 
Even a mineral stain on the rocks is not to be passed without ex- 
amination, though we don't think much of it down here among the 
foot-hills. If we find good float, or even specimens of rock or ores 
usually associated with silver, y\e are encouraged and toil upward; 
for we do not hope to locate in the foot-hills or even near the base 
of the higher range. If there is a mine there, the chances are thou- 
sands to one that the outcrop is covered hundreds of feet deep by 
drift. Obviously the higher we get the less drift there is on the bed 
rock, till we reach a point where the real mountain protrudes its bare 
rocky points. Nevertheless we examine the lower slopes carefully, 
for we may find a "stream of float" which will lead us directly 
to the vicinity of a mine. It often happens that such a stream 
leads the prospector to a point half way up the mountain, then sud- 
denly ceases. Where, then, is the mine? The lode from which 
that stream was derived may be hundreds or thousands of feet fur- 



560 WESTERN WILDS. 

ther up, and it nuiy be near by and buried beneath the drift. When 
search above failed to find it, I have known miners to turn a stream 
of water from the highest practicable mountain torrent and wash a 
gully to the bed rock, down the mountain side, searching the bottom 
carefully all the way for evidences of the lode. It may be, however, 
that the lode is right under us, but shows no evidence at the surface ; 
it is then known as a "blind lode," and is either discovered by mere 
accident or by tracing from an adjacent gulch. 

Right here the "pilgrim" is an unfailing source of amusement to 
the old miner. One day he goes wild over a piece of iron pyrites 
("fool's gold"), the next he locates a mine on the strength of a slab 
of yellow mica; now his spirits mount on eagle's wings at some trifling 
outcrop of galena or iron, and again the mercury goes down to the 
bottom of his boots because he can find nothing that glitters. But the 
old prospector knows too well that silver in its native matrix is the 
most modest of all the metals. In nature it is like the native dia- 
mond — without luster. It is only the low-grade galena ores, the many- 
hued sulphur, or the "peacock," which dazzle the eye. Horace has 
well expressed it : Nullus argento color est avaris abditce terris — " There 
is no luster to silver hidden in the grasping earth." The richer an 
ore is, the less like a rich ore it looks to the unpracticed eye. 

As we hunt up the mountain side we encounter some "blossom 
rock," which is merely float of such size, richness, and generally rag- 
ged contour as to show that it has not rolled far. The trail is now get- 
ting hot. We are certainly near the outcrop from which the " blossom" 
was broken, and if an assay shows the ore attached to it to be rich, we 
feel all the enthusiasm of the true prospector ; our bacon and beans 
have a new relish, and over the evening pipe, around the camp-fire, 
we speculate as to how we will spend all the money we are sure to 
make. If this is at a point where the bed rock is not covered by 
drift, we redouble our scrutiny; we tap the rock at every point and 
search diligently for any indications of mineral. Stains on the rock 
are now of much more importance than they were among the foot- 
hills. If the snow is just going off we notice very carefully what 
sort of a stain the drip leaves on the rock. Iron stains are red ; 
copper stains, a reddish yellow; but lead and silver stains are gray, 
the brightness varying with the proportion of other minerals. One 
of the richest mines in American Fork Canon, Utah, was discovered 
by following up a stain left by melting snow. But while we specu- 
late on these things we happen at last on a point where there is an 
unmistakable outcrop of something different from the country rock. 



PROSPECTING AND MINING. 561 

We dig and blast and assay, and find that here a mineral-bearing 
ore actually projects from the surface ; and now we are in luck. 

Are we though ? Well, that depends. There is about one chance 
in twenty that this little outcrop is the end of a large continuous crev- 
ice, and about one chance in ten that such a crevice when found will 
prove a valuable mine. For the reason of this disgusting fact we 
must go back to the origin of things, and consider how the mountain 
came to have crevices in it at all. Suppose a mountain of massive 
rock, or of massive rock below, and capped by sedimentary (stratified) 
rock above — the whole mass broken across by a force acting from 
below — obviously this would result : the force would split the mount- 
ain in a tolerably direct course until it neared the surface ; then it' 
would shatter the cap of the mountain, there being less resistance, 
and the fracturing force would find outlet in a score or a hundred 
minor crevices. This, if the mountain were all massive rock; but if 
it were stratified rock, whether limestone, slate, porphyry, or what 
not, with lines of cleavage already present, the fracturing force would 
of course follow these lines, and thus you would find scores of crevices 
at the surface for the one main crevice far below. Indeed, what 
miners call a " mother lode " is often like a tree in its upward devel- 
opment : below is the main trunk, above the branches diverge, and 
sometimes one immense branch strikes off at right angles and reaches 
the surface hundreds or thousands of feet away. The outcrops which 
led to the noted Comstock Lode spread over a width of twelve hun- 
dred feet. From these originate most of the lawsuits as to mining 
titles ; and if the lucky prospector develops a true vein, or big 60- 
nanza, he may reasonably expect to find a dozen or more fellows 
located on the neighboring outcrops, each indulging a hope that the 
court will decide his to be the true location, or that the owners will 
buy him off. 

But this is only one way in which mines are found, though it is 
the most common way. Sometimes a blind lode is traced by a faint 
outcrop in a neighboring gulch ; sometimes it is found while running 
a tunnel for some 'other purpose or opening another mine; and oc- 
casionally a bold outcro}) is struck without any indications below it 
in the way of float. It is the theory of geology that our mountains 
were once much higher than at present, their tops having been worn 
away. So, if the crevice extended to the surface of the original 
mountain — as it often did, no doubt — it, too, has worn away, and its 
contents are scattered in the drift. But where such a crevice was 
filled with hard volcanic rock, the softer rock around it wore awav 
36 



562 WESTERN WTLDS. 

and left a dike — a serrated ridge like the Devil's Slide on the Weber. 
This could seldom, if ever, happen with a mineral-bearing vein. As 
a rule, not only is the outcrop of such a vein hidden, but the top ore 
is swept out, and nothing of great value ^is found until we attain some 
depth. There is but one way, then, of finding out whether our loca- 
tion amounts to anything : we must dig. When we have scooped 
out a few cubic yards of rock and earth Ave then have a "prospect 
hole," and for a few days — in some districts, according to local law — 
we can hold title to it by merely leaving our tools in it when absent. 
If we find good signs, however, we would better post a 

NOTICE. 

We, the undersigned, of the town of Fair Hope, State of Colorado, this tenth day of 
April, 1882, claim, by right of discovery, one thousand five hundred (1500) feet along 
the course of this ledge or vein of mineral-bearing rock, with all its dips, spurs, angles, 
and variations, as allowed by law; also one hundred and fifty (150) feet of surface 
ground on each side of the central line of said lode. 

Made April 10th, 1882. JOSEPH HOPEFUL, 

LYNN C. D'OYLE. 

Ten years ago we should have claimed and located two hundred feet 
along the lode for each person, and "two hundred for discovery;" so 
we two could have held but six hundred feet. This was a sort of 
limit, but every district had many local regulations, and in most of 
the territories prospectors could "locate" as many friends in their 
claim as they pleased — two hundred feet for each — by doing work in 
proportion. Little by little a system grew up out of the original chaos 
(see pp. 476-478) ; the territories first passed general laws, and in 
1872 Congress reduced the whole thing to a very clear and able code 
of mining laws. This granted six hundred feet in width and fifteen 
hundred in length, but allowed territories to limit the width ; and in 
1874 Colorado cut it down to three hundred feet. Local laws still 
determine the amount of work required to hold a claim, and in this 
matter each district is a law unto itself For the present our "Notice" 
gives sufficient title, as we want to dig deeper and see what we have. 

The first excitement is soon passed, and day after day we pick and 
blast, inward and downward. If we find a crevice, though ever so 
small and irregular, we dig on, carefully watching the "indications." 
We may follow a "pinching vein" for rods through the solid rock: 
sometimes it shrinks to the thinness of a knife blade ; sometimes we 
see nothing more of it than a mere mineral stain on the wall of our 
shaft or incline; again it may widen to a few inches, and yet again it 



PROSPECTING AND MINING. 563 

may "pocket." suddenly in a chamber the size of a keg, barrel, or 
hogshead. Many a prospector finds his vein at an end for good and 
all in such a pocket. But we do not, of course, expect much near 
the surface : all we look for now is good indications. If our seam 
gains in width on the whole, if it slowly changes towards the perpen- 
dicular, if defined walls show themselves with patches of " slicken- 
sides," or even if there is a well marked line of division between the 
vein matter and the enclosing wall-rock, we are encouraged. Many 
are the alternations of hope and fear : to-day she widens, with a de- 
fined seam of so-so ore ; to-morrow we are in the " cap " or pinch, 
and our hopes are crushed. We may be in the main vein ; we may 
be in a mere "gash" or overflow; perhaps we have located on a side 
outcrop, with the main vein hundreds of feet away ; and, worst of all, 
we may have fallen on a true fissure and well defined vein, but full 
of such low-grade ore that the more we have of it the poorer we are. 
By this time romance has given place to philosophy, and we are 
cool enough to consider some ugly facts. The first is that not one 
location in ten is ever sunk to a depth of sixty feet ; that of those so 
far sunk not one in ten proves a valuable mine ; and that of actual 
mines not one in ten is rich enough to get excited about. The most cu- 
rious fact, however, is this : the marv^elously small proportion which the 
precious metal bears to the whole mass of the ore, the almost infinite 
number of chances which determine its presence or absence, and the 
utter lack of ratio between its chemical, or mechanical, and its com- 
mercial value. For instance, if gold ore yields $40.00 per ton, it is 
very rich. But what is $40.00 per ton? Only two ounces out of 
32,000 ! That is, if the one sixteen-thousandth part of what you 
hoist out is gold, your mine is very rich. But scores of gold mines 
are worked with big profits, yielding but $10.00 per ton — one sixty- 
four-thousandth part of the mass. Yet a mine in the same place, 
yielding but $8.00 per ton, would not probably pay for working, the 
$2.00 per ton on the output making all the difference between profit 
and loss. So this formula, 

%^h-s minus j-^l-^-^ equals j 20W. 

shows all the difference between a mine of some value and one of 
little or none. In silver the disproportion is not so great, but still 
rather startling. Thus, in Colorado, fifty ounces per ton makes a 
valuable mine ; twenty-five ounces, in most localities, is not worth 
mining for. So you have j^Vo ^^ *^^^ mass as the real difference be- 
tween rich and poor ore. Consider how very small this difference is 



56^ WESTERN WILDS. , 

in nature — how many chances in her vast laboratory may lessen the 
proportion u little; then add the fact that silver will combine with 
scores ot" minerals, and you will plainly see that its presence in paying 
quantities is the accident of an accident, and that one crevice may be 
full of rich ore, and another but a few rods away too poor to work. 
You will see, too, that a man is not necessarily rich because he owns 
a silver mine, and understand why it is that so many mines, undoubt- 
edly true fissures, are not worked. I believe I can go to the western 
part of Utah and buy a known true-fissure vein, two or three feet 
wide and full of ore, for a hundred dollars. But the ore is low-grade 
galena, wood and water are scarce in the vicinity, and there is no 
railroad. Thus it often happens that a mine of no value becomes 
valuable by imjjroved transportation or the discovery of coal near by. 

At the depth of fifty feet we find ourselves in a crevice with de- 
fined walls, containing some mineral ; we go twenty-five feet further, 
and the crevice is perceptibly wider, with an occasional "selvage" 
between the vein matter and the w'all, and sometimes "slickensides" — 
patches smooth as polished glass, supposed to have been caused by the 
friction of moving walls in the period of fracture. At a hundred 
feet in depth we are satisfied we have a good mine, and begin to take 
out ore enough nearly to pay expenses. The enterprise has cost us 
some §1500, and Ave think enough of it to want our title perfected. 
We recorded the location in the District Recorder's books soon after 
we put up the notice, and have done more than the amount of work 
the district law requires; so our next step is to apply for a United 
States patent, and from this on we must comply strictly with the Law 
of Congress, approved May 10, 1872. 

We first apply to the Surveyor-General of the State or Territory, 
paying a fee of twenty -five dollars. We must, if the question is raised, 
prove our citizenship or that we have filed a declaration of intention 
to become citizens. The proof, however, is not made very onerous, 
our own affidavits generally being sufficient. A corporation need only 
file its certificate as in other cases. We also file proof from the Dis- 
trict Recorder that we h)cated and recorded as claimed, and satisfy the 
official that we have done work on our claim to the value of $500. 

The Surveyor-General then, in person or by deputy, surveys and 
maps out for us fifteen hundred feet along the lode, and one hundred 
and fifty feet on each side of it, unless our claim be in Boulder, Gilpin, 
Clear Creek, or Park counties, Colorado. In these four old counties 
the locator is limited to seventy-five feet on each side ; so a claim there 
covers but half as much surface as elsewhere. The law strictly pro- 



PROSPECTING AND MINING. 565 

vides that the end boundaries must be parallel to each other and at 
right angles to the central line; so a full claim, outside of the above 
counties, is a perfect parallelogram— three hundred by fifteen hundred 
feet, or ten acres and about a fifth; and for this the Government 
charges five dollars per acre. The Surveyor-General must then make 
a complete plat of the claim. 

We go next to the Register of the Land Office of our State or Ter- 
ritory. We post one copy of the surveyor's plat on a post or rock, 
conspicuously, on the ground we claim ; another copy we file with the 
Register, with the field-notes, and the affidavits of two competent per- 
sons that we have posted notice on the claim. The Register then enters 
the case for record, and publishes notice of the application as often as 
once a week for at least sixty days, in the newspaper nearest to such 
claim. He must also post notice of our application in his office ; and, 
by the way, w^e must also pay him some fees, and pay for the adver- 
tising. If no adverse claimant appears in response to this advertising, 
all such are barred; it is assumed that our claim is first class, and we 

go higher. 

But if there is one chance in ten, some fellow wnll be certain to 
claim that our mine belongs to him. He may file his claim under 
oath, and, within thirty days after so doing, begin suit in any court 
with real estate jurisdiction. If he fails to do so within the time, he 
is forever barred ; if he acts promptly, the case goes to trial the same 
as any other. If we gain it, we file a copy of the judgment with the 
Register of the Land Office, and proceed as before. But all this time 
we retain possession of the mine, and take out pay ore— if there is 

any. 

Having gotten rid of the man who tried to "jump" our mine, we pay 
some more fees, you observe, and the Register certifies all the papers 
to the Commissioner-General of the Land Office, at Washington, who 
thereupon issues to us a patent, and we are owners m fee simple of the 
claim therein described. We, or our assigns, can then hold it for all 
time, no matter whether we work it or let it lie idle. A patent costs 
from $125 to $175, all the fee? in mining districts being very heavy. 
The holder can follow his vein downward wherever it goes, but he 
must not go outside of his end lines. The following general princi- 
ples of mining law, either as laid down in the statutes of Congress and 
the Territories or decided by the Land Office Department and courts, 
are worth noting : 

All lands of the United States containing gold, silver, lead, tin, 
copper, or cinnabar, in workable quantities, are mineral lands, and 



566 WESTERN WILDS. 

not open to homestead or preemption entry. Nor can they be sold 
in quantities as other lands, nor does a land grant convey them to a 
railroad or other grantee. Nor is any distinction made by Govern- 
ment between its surveyed and unsurveyed mineral lands. 

In cases of doubt or dispute the law leans to the side of the pros- 
pector. The decisions of the Department bear strongly against other 
than miners' titles to lands supposed to be mineral, it being the de- 
clared policy of the United States to encourage mining development 
in all proper ways. (See decision of the Commissioner-General in 
regard to the town site of Deadwood, Dakota.) 

Land once surveyed and thrown open to settlement Avill be with- 
drawn from market at any time before vested rights accrue, upon 
proof that it is mineral-bearing. 

That land is within a known mineral region, is held presumptive 
proof that it is mineral land ; the burden of proof is on those who 
seek to show that it is not. 

The miners of each district may make local laws not inconsistent 
with those of the United States, or of the State or Territory; and 
these local laws will be enforced by the courts. Similarly a State 
or Territory may make any laws not inconsistent with the ownership 
of mineral lands by the United States. 

AVhen a patent has been granted, a mine is real estate in fee simple, 
and sul)ject to local tax, lien, mortgage, and execution, the same as 
otlier real estate. Before a patent is granted, the title is still in the 
United States; the miner has but a possessory right, and, in strict- 
ness of law, only his improvements covdd be taxed. 

Where a tunnel is run for the development of a lode or for pros- 
pecting, the owners thereof have the right to all veins or lodes cut 
by it, and all within three thousand feet from the starting-point of 
the tunnel and lying on its line, not previously known to exist; and 
locations within such limit by other parties, after the tunnel has been 
commenced, are invalid. But to secure such rights the tunnel must 
be driven with reasonable diligence ; and a cessation of work thereon 
for six months forfeits the right to undiscovered veins on its line. 

If applicants for patents complain that fees and publication charges 
are exorbitant, the Commissioner-General has power to limit such 
charges, or to designate another paper than the one first selected by 
the Register. 

AVhere two or more veins, separate at the surface, run together 
below, the oldest title holds the property. Where two veins cross. 



PROSPECTING AND MINING. 567 

the older title takes the ore at the intersection; but the other has 
the richt of way across the space for the purpose of working. 

The" State or Territory may make all needful rules for safe and 
healthful working of mines, easement, drainage, etc. 

All parties along a stream have equal original rights to use oi the 
water • but priority of use or possession becomes a vested right, ot 
which' the party can not be deprived even by those who locate above 

him. ^ . 

The status of all mineral lands taken up before May 10th, 18/2, is 
in nowise changed by the statute; they remain as rights therein ac- 
crued under local or territorial law. 

Prospectors can not exercise too much care in defining their loca- 
tions at the outset, that the same may be distinctly traced on the 
ground and its boundaries easily marked. The United States statute 
fs also specific in requiring that all records of locations shall contain 
the names of the locators, the date of the location, and such descrip- 
tion of the claim by reference to natural objects or permanent mon- 
uments as will identify it. One should also particularly set forth 
the distance of his claim each way from his center stake, and bound 
it if possible bv a gulch, stream, or prominent rock, and specity 
carefully its bearing from or towards, and distance Irom, any adja- 

cent lode. , ^ ^ 

Work to the value of at least §100 per year must be done on a 

claim to hold it by mere possessory right. , . , „ 

Now that we have our mine, let us decide what kind of a one it is, 
and then how we would better work it. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 

In the closing months of 1878 the white nomads of the West were 
greatly excited by reports of a new Eldorado and a great mining city 
modestly called Lead-viWe. Soon all the journals were spotted with 
stirring accounts of the Magic City. All old similes were exhausted 
and a hundred new ones invented : it was the future metropolis astride 
the Mother Lode of the world ; it had sprung up as if from the touch 
of Aladdin's lamp; it seemed as if built by genii in a night; it was 
Ophir and Lydia and Potosi, Tyre and San Francisco, all in one. 
All around it the rock-ribbed hills were said to be thick-set with bot- 
tomless lodes of argentiferous ore. All this and much more. Of 
course the old campaigner knew that at least half of this was the nat- 
ural gush of the editor whose bright home is in the setting sun, etc. ; 
nevertheless a great longing grew upon me to mingle once more in 
such stirring scenes. But, alas! business and domestic cares forbade; 
so I confided my interest in the sight-seeing to my friend and rela- 
tive, C. K. Bright, Esq., and the purely narrative portion of this chap- 
ter is from his diary. 

February 10th, 1879, says the diary, I bought of the Indianapolis, 
Bloomington and Western Railroad a ticket from Covington, Indiana, 
to Denver via Pueblo, for the low price of nf44.10. Including all 
expenses for food and rest, the total cost is less than §60.00: this for 
a journey which once occupied at least two months, and required an 
outfit of two or three hundred dollars. Steel and steam have brought 
the Far West almost to our doors. At 10 o'clock that evening we 
crossed the Mississippi at Quincy, and at 9: 15, next morning landed 
in Kansas City. Thence we departed at 11 a. m., on the Atchison, 
Topeka and Santa Fe line, stopping for dinner at Topeka, sixty-six 
miles out. All the way, and for seventy-five miles beyond Topeka, 
the country teems with every variety of agricultural products; pleas- 
ant homes and thriving villages cheer the traveler's eye, and, except 
the general air of freshness and smartness, one sees no signs of a new 
West. It is, rather, a transplanted New England. 

(568; 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 569 

Darkness found us at Osage City, and to us the line between Kan- 
sas and Colorado is even less than an idea : we went to sleep in one 
and woke in the other. But the scene had greatly changed : out of 
a settled and cultivated valley, into an apparently boundless waste 
\vhere 

" The dewy ground was dark and cold ; 
Behind all gloomy to behold ; 
And stepping westward seemed to be 
A kind of heavenly destiny. 
I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound 
Of something without place or bound, 
And seemed to give me spiritual right 
To seek beyond for regions bright." 

In summer the scene is much more animated, for the entire valley 
is then occupied by stockmen, who drive their cattle farther east in the 
winter. Fresh beef is now eaten in London which was grown and 
fattened in this valley, wdiile much of the corn and wheat produced 
in the Kansas half of it finds a market in the mines and cities of 
Colorado. We follow up the gently winding valley of the Arkansas, 
finding no perceptible change, as eastern Colorado climate and scenery 
extend far down into Kansas. 

At La Junta, five hundred and fifty-five miles from Kansas City, a 
branch road strikes south-west to Trinidad, and thence on to Otero — 
the first railroad station ever established in New Mexico — and beyond 
that is stretching towards the Pacific. At late dinner-time we reach 
Pueblo, six hundred and eighteen miles from the Missouri; and still 
we are forty miles from Caiion City, the end of railroading for the 
present. 

Pueblo is close down to the river, in the Arkansas Valley, only 
four thousand seven hundred and three feet above the sea, and, like 
every other Colorado town in the valleys, is " highly recommended 
for pulmonary diseases." Here we rested a day, to get our " second 
wind," then took the afternoon train and ran rapidly up the valley to 
Canon City, five thousand two hundred and sixty feet above the sea. 
And now I begin to feel the altitude— just a little — and various symp- 
toms warn me that I had better wait here a few days before entering 
on the trying stage-coach ride to Leadville. 

Canon City is situated on both sides of the Arkansas, which is here 
a noticeably larger stream than it is a hundred miles farther down — 
though a mere creek compared with its volume in Arkansas. There 
are mountains north, south, and west of the town, but to the east the 
view is open. To the eastern eye the valley seems narrow, though 



570 WESTERN WILDS. 

there is considerable good laud near by and between here and Pueblo. 
There is, however, hardly any such thing as agriculture in Colorado; 
it is horticulture rather, farming on a small scale, except where there 
is meadow land. Hence to liosita, county seat of Custer City, it 
is thirty miles south; and a little beyond that is the wonderful Silver 
Cliff, where the first house was erected the first week in September, 
1878, and before Christmas there were hundreds, and the population 
is now at least five thousand! Such is the suddenness of things in a 
mining country. 

As Caiion City is shut in by the hills from the rudest wintry blasts, 
nestling close in to the base of the Rocky Mountains, it is regarded 
as the best winter resort in the State for invalids. To this add 
the iron and soda springs, the hot mineral baths, and the wonderful 
scenery of the Royal Gorge and Grape Creek Canon, and no more 
need be said. 

We spent a day of delight in Grape Creek Canon, wdiich is the 
first stage on the road to Silver Cliff. As we wound around the 
curves of the road it seemed at every turn we were shut in; but 
following up the stream we found the walls opening on new scenes 
of grandeur. The rocks are basaltic, and reared in columns, re- 
minding one greatly of the pictures of the Giant's Causeway. They 
rise in grape-colored pillars to a height of three or four hundred 
feet, and are often capped with a sort of cornice which gives an 
odd reseml)lance to architectural designs. In many places the canon 
is so narrow that road and stream occupy its entire width ; and 
since the railway to Silver Cliff is completed, it gives a rare op- 
portunity for a romantic ride. Temple Canon opens from Grape 
Creek, through an archway of rock wonderfully like that of the 
Natural Bridge in Virginia. 

The McClure House, our head-quarters, is full of excited human- 
ity. All the restless spirits of the world seem crowding on to 
Leadville, Gunnison, Silver Cliff, or San Juan. Sanguine "pilgrims" 
assure us that all the " science, falsely so called," has been upset 
by the new discoveries at Silver Cliff; for there is just as rich 
ore there in one kind of rock as another. " You don't even 
have to find a lode or crevice to get ore, and the biggest green- 
horn this side of New Jersey is just as apt to strike a bonanza 
as the oldest professor of mineralogy." And verily, late develop- 
ments there have about proved this boast true. The bordering 
mountain is appropriately called Greenhorn Range, as if in com- 
pliment to that class of prospectors. And, after finding rich ore 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 



571 



almost everywhere except where the old heads told them to look 
for it, the luoky ones jocosely proposed to install a spectacled burro 
over their l)udding school of raining science. But of this remark- 
able place, more anon. 

We devoted the whole 
day, February 7th, to seeing 
the wonders of the Grand 
Canon and the Royal Gorge ; 
and surely whole weeks 
would be scant time to enjoy 
fully the awful grandeur, 
the ahiiost frightful sul)limity 
of this place. In ages paat 
the Arkansas has cut a nar- 
row way nearly twenty-five 
hundred feet deep, directly 
through the mountain ; and 
far down in the depths, for 
many a rod where sun- 
light never penetrates, the 
foaming water frets its way 
among the fallen rocks which 
choke its bed. Many pre- 
fer to go around by the 
old route, thirteen miles 
over the high levels, to 
get an opportunity to see 
the gorge from above; but 
we chose the walk directly 
up the canon, as the way 
had been opened and made 
tolerably safe by the pio- 
neer parties of the Atchi- 
son, Topeka, and Santa Fe 
Road. 

This rock-bound river channel was known to Spanish missionaries 
in 1642; but it is claimed that no human being passed through 
it before 1870. The distant hills encroach very gradually on the 
river as we go up, till at last they shut it in between jagged and 
almost perpendicular cliffs two thousand feet in height. One can 
not see the top above him for the overhanging walls; but ghuicing 




NIGHT SCENE IN THE CANON. 



572 WESTERN WILDS. 

up on the other side, the sight is sufficient to give some pcoj)le the 
vertigo. At last we reach the Royal Gorge, which is over a mile in 
length, and is, indeed, only an enormous tunnel two tliou,<and feet 
under the solid rock, with a slight crack opened to the sky and sun- 
light above. The canon walls above the stream recede from each 
other for one thousand feet, then slowly approach to within thirty-five 
feet, making an enormous curve like the two sides of a (). 

Since the above was written the railroad has forced its way through 
this chasm. The original surveys were made while the stream was 
frozen over ; then workmen were lowered from above and a foot- 
hold blasted out of the cliff, and then rock masses of hundreds of 
tons were blown out with dynamite and tumbled into the river bed. 
May 7th, 1879, the first passenger train passed through the gorge, and 
then came — a lawsuit ! The merits of the case need not be discussed, 
but the company whose energy opened the way was not permitted to 
enjoy it. After a tedious suit, and riots and seizures which amounted 
to civil Avar, the courts, early in 1880, gave judgment for the Denver 
and Rio Grande Railway Company ; and in April of that year, on 
payment of construction costs, that company took possession of the 
line. It at once hurried on the work and completed the road to 
Leadville that summer. And now the traveler may reach Lcadville 
or Silver Cliff' in the most comfortable of passenger cars. 

But we had to stage it, and, in the early morning of February 18th, 
took seat in one of Barlow and Sanderson's coaches, paying $14.00 
fiire, or about eleven cents a mile, for the one hundred and twenty- 
six miles to Leadville. The morning was stinging cold, and the ice 
and snow forbade all enjoyment of scenery. All we note is a bewil- 
dering succession of mountain, valley, and timbered slope; the coach 
laboring away from the Arkansas and uphill for hours, and then com- 
ing thundering do-svn to it again wherever the valley was broad enough 
for a road, till we reached Bayles's Ranclie, where we concluded to 
stop for the night. 

At Cleora, a station on our line, coaches start on branch lines for 
Ouray and Saguache. N. B. — They spell this name right, but pro- 
nounce it Sowahchay ! But it's all the same in Spanish. By the 
same diabolical process of lingual gymnastics they write the name of 
the junction where the New Mexican branch of the raihvay starts, 
I.ia Jimta, and call it Lah Hoontay. So, too, they call San Juan, 
San Wahn ; Juanita, Wahneeta ; Albuquerque, Albookairkay ; and 
San liuis, San Looeccc. They will even laugh at a pilgrim who 
pronounces them as they are spelled. But it 's a way they have out 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 573 

here; and if you don't like it, there is no law against your staying 
in Indiana. 

As soon as light was sufficient we departed from Bayles's Ranche, 
and soon were in the midst of scenery so grand that we lost all sense 
of danger, though the abrupt turns, sharp precipices, and yawning 
chasms along the way were enough to shake the firmest nerves. Many 
a time it seemed to me the coach horses were taking us at full run 
over a precipice, into a chasm of unknown depth; but just at the right 
moment the driver dropped his weight upon the brake, the vehicle 
" slowed," a turn opened to right or left, and we glided gracefully 
around a jutting corner of rock, into a broad gallery, and then down, 
down, doAvn along the winding dug-way to the stream which we had 
left, it might be hours before, to toil up the mountain. At last, at 9 p. m., 
we reached Leadville to find the whole city illuminated. It was not 
in honor of anybody, however, but to thaw the ground for digging 
to lay water-pipes. We then learned that the ground in this remark- 
able city freezes almost every night in the year. They had piled long 
winrows of wood in the street, set it on fire, and dug a ditch for the 
water-pipes under the bed of hot embers ! And this they would have 
had to do in any month in the year, except possibly July and August. 
With this startling information we tumbled into Blanket Bay and for 
ten hours slept the sleep of the just and weary. Enjoyed it none the 
less though the small room contained fourteen beds filled with other 
weary pilgrims. 

February 20th, awoke with strange sensations : giddiness, head too 
big entirely, and limbs rather slow in obeying the motions of the will. 
First attempt to run about town proved a total failure, for a painful 
fluttering in the temple and tremor about the heart warned me 
to go slow. Nor did those symptoms leave me entirely for a week. 
Leadville is ten thousand two hundred feet above the sea, and the 
pilgrim should be in no hurry about exercise. Fortunately the 
tendency to rest is generally too strong to be resisted ; laziness be- 
comes a virtue, and one can sleep half the time and lounge the other 
half. But when I got my mountain legs on the days were too short 
to view the novelties. ISIy first climb was to the Little Pittsburg 
Mine, of which one-fourth had just been sold for $262,500. The 
lucky seller was a poor man a year before, but on receipt of his cash 
he proceeded immediately to Silver Cliif and reinvested it — so he may 
be a poor man again in due time. The Little Pittsburg was said to 
be producing $10,000 a day when in full work. 

Day after day I gained in lung power, and climbed to higher mines; 



57-i WESTERN WTLDS. 

and night after night enjoyed seeing the motley erowd on the streets. 
Nothing surprised nie so much as the enormous quantities of mail re- 
ceived and the crowd at the post-office, especially on Sundays. Then 
one often has to wait in line an hour or two for his chance. It would 
seem that miners spend all their spare time in reading or answering 
letters. But there is a good sized theater crowded nightly, and scores 
of popular resorts, all of which seem well patronized Day after day 
the town is excited by new reports of rich discoveries in the mount- 
ains, "a little further on." And after a month's experience of this 
sort of thing, and diligent study of the formation, it seems fair to 
drop the narrative style and give the reader some condensed facts. 

Come with us now, in the opening of 1882, to Leadville. You need 
not stage it as we did, for you can lie back in a Horton reclining- 
chair and view the scenery as you come, on either of two railroads. 
The Denver and Rio Grande comes directly up the Arkansas from 
Pueblo, the Denver and South Park in a general south-west direction 
from Denver; and whichever one you come by, you will think the 
scenery the finest in the world — till you return by the other. You 
will land in a city of fifteen thousand or twenty thousand people, with 
large hotels, immense wholesale and retail stores, an elegant opera- 
house, with good society, an odd compound of that of Chicago and 
San Francisco, and some of the worst society in the world — if you 
look for it. 

Leadville lies on the east side of, and about three miles from the 
Arkansas River, on a gently sloping plain, or plateau, cut through 
on the south by the flimous California Gulch, walled in on the east 
by the world-renow^ned Freyer and Carbonate Hills, Avhich are in turn 
overshadowed by the frowning peaks of the Mosquito Range. On the 
north the main portion of the city is flanked by an elevation known 
as Capital Hill, upon which some of the finest residences in the city 
are located. Looking west, the valley of the Arkansas is seen, beyond 
which towers the majestic Mount Massive, whose snowy head is often 
veiled with clouds. Surely no city could be more beautiful for situ- 
ation. 

Near the city — indeed, throughout the district this side of the 
divide — the geological formation is very irregular. The basis is 
granite, which crops out frequently. All along the valley of the 
xVrkansas indications of extensive Silurian formations are quite abun- 
dant. However, the strata have been so broken up by volcanic 
action and so extensively converted into metamorphic rock, that it is 
impossible to determine the extent of the original formations. So fer 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 575 

as the mines have developed, there seems to be no regularity or system 
whatever, but all is in a confused mass. Mines that arc but a few 
hundred feet apart strike very different rock deposits. There is no 
uniformity in the thickness of the " wash," or of the deposits of lime- 
stone, porphyry, and carbonates. One mine will strike valuable car- 
bonates a few feet from the surface, while the mine next to it may go 
down hundreds of feet and find little or no paying ore. In some 
mines limestone is found in abundance; others encounter extensive 
deposits of porphyry. As a rule, the carbonates are found below the 
porphyry. These carbonate deposits are not at all uniform in extent. 
Sometimes they contain only a ton or two ; and, again, there will be 
a hundred tons or more in one deposit. The silver-bearing ores also 
vary greatly in kind. Some are soft or pulverized, called sand car- 
bonates ; some are hard, and carry a large per cent, of iron ; while 
others are almost wholly composed of galena, with a small per cent, 
of silver; still others are rich in chlorides and sulphurets. 

Nothing like a true fissure vein has been found in Freyer or 
Carbonate Hills ; but in the gulches over the divide, many rich veins 
have been discovered. These veins vary from one foot to six feet in 
thickness, and are often rich in galena. Little of horn or wire 
silver has been discovered in the deposit mines, though some has been 
found in fissure veins. During the past season some very valuable 
gold-bearing veins have been discovered near Leadville. It is be- 
lieved that there are many rich gold-bearing lodes yet undiscovered 
in the immediate vicinity of Leadville. Several millions of dollars 
in gold dust have been washed from the gravel beds of California 
Gulch — paying dirt having been found there twenty years ago, and 
it is very probable that the gold dust has been washed down 
from veins of gold-bearing rock in the sides of the neighboring 
mountains. 

Some suppose that there is a deposit of carbonates underlying all 
the country about here, which may be struck if the shaft is sunk deep 
enough. But the more probable opinion is that these deposits lie here 
and there with no regularity. It will be seen, therefore, that the 
search for carbonates in the foot-hills about Leadville is one of luck 
or haphazard entirely. The miner has no indications to guide him, 
but digs a hole hoping to strike it. Not more than one in one 
hundred of the holes thus dug has yielded well. So mining about 
Leadville, at the start at least, is simply prospecting on a large and 
very expensive scale. But when they do strike it, it is marvelous 
how the wealth rolls out. 



old 



WESTERN WILDS. 



The following table is carefully compiled from the furnace returns 
and shipments, and shows within a very few dollars the yield of Lead- 
ville mines for 1880: 



January .... 
February... 

March 

April 

May... 

June 

July 

August 

Septembei-. 

October 

Novembi'i-. 
December.. 



Total 67,691,85-1 8,979.309 



«.2 



r,4j9 
■;,7i9 

,673 
,660 

,828 

,7:i.s 
,o;f9 
■47 
,950 
,!)S2 
,851 



1,045 
808, 
741! 
636 
864 
619, 
676 
769 
848, 
757 
625 

58;i 






154 


570 


169 


610 


yi 


1 ,275 


4 


92-5 


4 


873 




887 


.300 


664 


350 


1,162 


251 


2,937 


190 


1,690 


12 


817 


157 


60 



$1,194,509 
916,292 
841.916 
724,320 
986,164 
720,281 
7.50,367 
878,989 
959,027 
858,365 
708,156 
65(i,783 



$3,080 

3,390 

2,120 

80 

80 

"'6,boo' 

7,000 
5,060 
3,824 
240 
3,140 



.= S^ 



$269, 
292, 
293, 
246, 
2S2, 
193 
206, 
349, 
.375, 
298, 
263, 
262, 



1,688 12,470 $10,195,109 $34,014 $3,335,.507 $1,460,363 $15,025,153 






$148,900 
173.181 
166,1,32 
109.394 
109.683 
126,997 

77,885 
128.391 
217,147 
127,453 

68,200 
7,000 






$1,616,035 
1,38.5,605 
1,304,093 
1,080,726 
1,378,664 
l,040,2s3 
1,011,184 
1,364,179 
1,5.56,599 
1,288,463 
1,040.027 
929,295 



An aggregate of over fifteen million dollars in one year is truly 
astoni.shing. The proved returns and work done in jiarticular mines 
are even more remarkable. In the Chrysolite Mine alone over twelve 
thousajid linear feet of drifts, raises, and winzes, were made during the 
year, and in eight of the Freyer Hill mines over seventy-five thousand 
linear feet of drifts, levels, winzes, and raises, were made, representing 
about two million cubic feet. Still larger sections of promising terri- 
tory remain to be opened, and not one-tenth of the hill has even been 
explored. Less than eight acres are stoped, and about twenty acres 
are opened, and thousands of tons of rich mineral are exposed to 
view in nearly every mine on the hill. On Carbonate Hill a very 
large amount of development work has also been done during the 
year, but less ore has been taken out. The mines located on the car- 
bonate break show from the Catalpa northward an almost inexhausti- 
ble supply of medium grade lead ores that 2>i'omises to supply the 
smelters of the camp for years to come. 

Large bodies of fine smelting ores have been discovered in the 
Florence, Brian Born, and Columbia mines, on the south side of Cal- 
ifornia Gulch ; in the Big Chief, St. Mary's, Henriette, and Yankee 
Doodle mines, on Carbonate Hill; in the mines of Little Ellen Hill, 
and the Uncle Sam, Little Johnnie, A. Y., and other mines on Breece 
and Iron hills. Yankee Hill has disclosed ore bodies recently, that, 
in the opinion of many prominent mining men, will soon make it a 
formidable rival of Freyer Hill. Recent developments have shown 
some of the richest chloride bodies ever discovered in the vicinity of 
Leadville to exist in this hill, and its future possibilities are beyond 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 577 

estimation. In addition to these discoveries of smelting ores, a score 
of rich strikes of free milling silver-bearing and gold-bearing ores and 
quartz were made. Some of these are located on Ball Mountain and 
Breece Hill, and give magnificent returns in gold, while other rich 
silver-bearing quartz ledges have been opened on Yankee Hill and in 
Colorado Gulch. 

The history of Leadville is a Rocky Mountain romance in real life. 
When the first invasion struck the territory, the eager gold hunters 
prospected every gulch on the eastern slope; and in the spring of 
1860, parties of Gilpin County miners crossed South Park and dis- 
covered rich placers on the head-waters of the Arkansas. These were 
so much like the old placers of California that they named the local- 
ity California Gulch, and in a few months a continuous line of claims 
and cabins stretched along the Gulch thirty-three thousand feet. One. 
claim for awhile yielded $1,000 per day, and a single firm took out 
$60,000. They named the principal settlement Oro, and a few of its 
cabins still stand. Before Christmas, 1860, the camp contained some 
five thousand men, with all the accompaniments of saloon, store, dance 
house, and gambling hall, in which the lucky miner too often parted 
with his bonanza. Gold dust was the usual medium of exchange, by 
weight at $18 per ounce. 

In one year the gulch yielded about a million dollars; then one by 
one the placers were worked out, and the slow decline began. In 1865 
but few miners remained, and the total yield to that time was esti- 
mated at three millions. In 1869 it was but $60,000; in 1876 but 
$20,000 ; and then for a short time there was no town of Oro. But 
some observing men had noticed a few things which they kept to 
themselves till they had secured Government title to their claims. 
Messrs. Stevens and Wood remarked the extraordinary weight of the 
boulders displaced in placer mining, analyzed the metal, and found 
silver. They quietly secured titles to nine claims, and began to de- 
velop. Maurice Hayes and brother, the Gallagher brothers, and a 
Mr. Durham also made similar discoveries. Meanwhile the Printer's 
Boy and some other gold lodes had been opened and worked. At 
length, in the autumn of 1876, the Gallaghers struck a big deposit of 
rich carbonates, and in a few weeks several others " struck it rich " ; 
then California Gulch awoke from its long sleep and the era of mod- 
ern Leadville began. For fifteen years miners had taken out one 
kind of ore directly over fabulous wealth of another kind, without 
even suspecting it. In how many old camps are they doing the same 
thing even now? 
37 



578 



WESTERN WILDS. 



Early in 1877 two smelters were running, but rich discoveries fol- 
lowed each other so fast that ore was piled up hundreds of tons ahead 
of their capacity to reduce it. In June, 1877, Charles Mater erected 
the first house in the present Leadville, and opened a stock of goods 
therein. Before Christmas the place contained one thousand inhabit- 
ants; by spring it had a weekly paper, a school, and two churches. 
A. B. Wood made the first big sale, disposing of his half interest in 
the nine claims above mentioned for $40,000. In March, 1878, the 




>^fi^^^«fV 



A NEW .MIXING TOWN. 



St. Louis Smelting Company bought the Camp Bird and adjoining 
property for $225,000. By the first of June half a dozen rich mines 
were known ; then the flood began. First came miners and investors 
by twos and tens from adjacent camps, then by scores from distant 
parts of Colorado, and soon by hundreds from every part of the world. 
Winter brought a slight cessation, but the summer of 1878 increased 
the arrivals. The next winter made no cessation, and early in 1879 
the arrivals averaged a hundred per day. Meanwhile the wonderful 
deposits on Freyer Hill were opened — deposits so rich and easily 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 579 

mined that they exceeded any thing previously known in Colorado; 
and were only exceeded, if at all, by the Big Bonanza of Nevada. 

In May, 1879, this was the situation: Three stage lines were dis- 
charging their daily loads there, and two railroads Avere pushing for- 
ward to Leadville; five smelters and sampling works were taking in 
ore and shipping ore or bullion ; a dozen saw-mills ran day and night, 
and were a month behind on orders for lumber; six thousand people 
had a regular residence in the place, and unknown thousands more were 
scattered over the adjacent country ; five hundred houses were in process 
of building, and the sound of the hammer and saw w^as heard day and 
night. The luxuries of life followed fast. Dance houses and saloons 
multiplied, and " dizzy doves " gave an air of abandon to the streets. 
Enormous sales followed each other rapidly. Men who rarely had 
an extra dollar in their lives, found themselves rich beyond their 
dreams, and spent money with lavish hand. It was difficult to make 
one's way along the streets after night, when sight-seers and roysterers 
crowded the pavement. A dozen bands were drumming up audiences 
for as many variety shows and concert halls, and from scores of open 
doors were heard the click of billiard balls and the crash of ten-pins. 
Those who make money suddenly, generally spend it carelessly, and 
life in a thriving mining camp is a continuous invitation to prodi- 
gality. 

In December, 1879, the official report showed that Leadville con- 
tained four banks, with over $2,000,000 in deposits; that $569,070 
had been sent east in postal money-orders, and mail received at the 
rate of one or two tons per day ; that corner lots sold at from $3,000 
to $8,000 ; and that the city had that year done a business aggregating 
over $18,000,000! 

Since the opening of 1881, authentic figures are scarce. The popu- 
lation is estimated all the way from fifteen to forty thousand: take 
your choice. But the town is far more solid than it was. The Tabor 
Opera House is the finest in the State; and the churches, school build- 
ings, and public halls are equal to those in eastern cities. The city 
is illuminated with gas; has first-class water- works, police and fire 
departments ; is now a well-ordered place ; has three first-class daily 
and several weekly papers. The post-office is a wonder in itself. 
Twelve clerks are constantly on the move, and thousands of letters 
are received daily and delivered here or sent on to distant camps. 
The hotel business is enormous. The Clarendon took in $260,000 
in nine months. Almost every Christian denomination is represented 
by a fine church; and even the heathen Chinese have a little room 



580 WESTERN WILDS. 

which they use on occasion as a Buddhist temple. One dry-goods 
liouse sokl $350,000 worth in twelve months, and a grocery firm over 
$400,000 worth in the same time. There are two planing mills and 
four foundries and machine shops. The smelters ship over $1,000,000 
in bullion every month. And as this is the test of a mining region, 
let us finish our chapter on Ijcadville by a visit to the Grant Smelter, 
which is among the largest in the world. 

The first objects of interest, after you pass through the yard gate, 
are the great piles of dirt and stone, as you would call them, but 
which are really piles of valuable ore from the mines. Every load 
is driven on the scales and weighed as it comes in, and then assigned 
a place according to its value, which has been carefully ascertained 
by an assay made by the experts in the employ of the smelting com- 
pany. Passing into the building, you observe long rows of large bins 
full of ore, each properly numbered — the number indicating the qual- 
ity of the ore. Passing these bins, you encounter an army of men 
wheeling ore, limestone, coal, coke, and slag (which is the cooled 
refuse of the smelted ore), in all directions, without any seeming 
order or plan. Further on you observe men shoveling the ore into 
a sort of hopper, and on the other side of the hopper Avheeling away 
fine dirt, or ore that looks like sand. These hoppers, with huge iron 
rollers underneath, are called crushers, and the ore is passed through 
these crushers to pulverize it so it will smelt more easily. There are 
three of these crushers. 

We now see that the men who were wheeling various materials 
about the buildings, leave their loaded wheelbarrows in front of these 
furnaces. They are just now charging or filling this one, and we will 
watch the process. On the first is charcoal; on the second, limestone; 
on the third, ore; on the fourth, coke; and on the fifth, slag. Ob- 
serve he dumps the coal in first, then the limestone, and so on. Other 
wheelbarrow loads are brought and dumped into the furnace until it 
is full ; then the door is shut, and the whole mass begins to melt. 
You ask why all these different materials are used? Well, the coal 
and coke are of course put in to furnish the heat required ; the lime- 
stone and slag are put in to act as a flux. (This word literally 
means a flow.) These substances assist in the fusion or melting, and 
also in separating the difierent metallic substances that are combined in 
the ore. The silica or sand in the ore unites with the lime, and thus 
frees the silver and lead which are contained in the ore. Other min- 
eral substances also unite with the flux, leaving the silver and lead free 
from the baser metals. At the bottom of the furnace you see several 



I 



MINma FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 581 

tubes or pipes inserted. These are called "blowers," and through 
them the air is forced into the furnace to increase the process of com- 
bustion. By the aid of the blowers the furnace is made hot enough 
to melt the ore, etc. Now you observe men opening a spout near the 
bottom of the furnace, and draining off a red-hot liquid substance, 
which looks like melted iron, into cast-iron molds shaped like an in- 
verted cone. This is the slag or waste, and is composed of the sand, 
iron, lime, and all other base metals which the ore contained. The 
silver and lead, which are heavier than the slag, go to the bottom of 
the melted mass, and are taken out at the side of the furnace, from a 
round opening called the well. Near the well you sec a long row 
of cast-iron molds, each capable of holding about one hundred pounds 
of bullion, or silver and lead combined. Into these molds the melted 
bullion is poured, and when cold it is ready to ship. The silver and 
lead are not separated at the smelter, but are sent as bullion to St. 
Louis, Philadelphia, New York, and other places, to be separated and 
sold. Some of the ore is very rich in silver, and contains but little 
lead, while other grades have a large per cent, of lead and but little 
silver. Some of the bullion averages as high as twenty-five per cent, 
in silver. 

When all the furnaces about Leadville are in operation they can 
reduce two hundred and twenty-five tons of ore every twenty-four 
hours, which will make about five tons of bullion, and will contain a 
ton of pure silver, and perhaps more. Three hundred men are em- 
ployed when all the furnaces are running to their fullest capacity. 
Great care must be taken by the workmen not to get "leaded;" that 
is, not to inhale the fumes from the melted lead, which are very 
poisonous, and, if inhaled to any great extent, will bring on a very 
painful sickness, and perhaps result in death. 

I have said that the pilgrim would seldom if ever recognize the 
richest ore; that his eye would be caught by the glitter of the cheap 
galena ; and this is as good a place as any to give some of the reasons 
why. First, it is to be noted that though the simple elements in rock 
and mineral are few, their combinations are almost endless; and the 
merest trace of some element like sulphur will entirely change the ap- 
pearance of an ore. In gold mining there is little chance for techni- 
calities, for gold is "free" — that is, in its native matrix of quartz it 
does not combine with other minerals, and the separation is simple. 
But silver is the metal with which true science comes in play ; for of 
the sixty or more simple elements of which all creation is composed, 
he would be a bold miner who would put his finger on one and say. 



582 WESTERN WILDS. 

''That is never found with silver." The enclosing rocks, known in 
reference to the vein as " wall rock," and when spoken of generally as 
the " country rock," are somewhat more simple in construction. 

Of the elements in rock and mineral, the first is — 

Oxygen. — This constitutes nearly one-half of the earth's crust; it 
enters into all rocks and nearly all minerals. Next to it is 

Silicon. — This makes up about one-fourth of the earth's crust. So 
oxvffcn and silicon alone constitute about three-fourths of all the mate- 
rials the miner has to deal with. Combined in some way they make 

Quartz. — This is, in general terms, the matrix of the precious 
metals — that is, the atom of silver or gold is inclosed by atoms of 
quartz, so that the metal, as such, is rarely visible, and its presence is 
known to the exjierienced miner only by various signs. But if there 
is much galena present with the silver, that metal nearly always shows 
brightly with its cubical crystals, looking like marvelously rich ore. 
If, on the other hand, the silver is a chloride or sulphuret, there is no 
luster. Thus the richest ore always looks worthless to the pilgrim, 
and the cheapest looks the richest — the quartz in either case merely 
aiding to obscure the true ore. Next in rank, probably, is 

Feldspar. — A general name given to a class containing several 
varieties. Next is 

3Iica. — AVhich is too well known to need description. Quartz, 
feldspar, aud mica, combine to make granite, in which the shining 
specks, or flakes, of mica may often be distinguished. The last I 
need mention is 

Lime. — A word used by the miner in a very general sense indeed, 
and without reference to the many distinctions made by science. The 
practical miner lumps it all together under the general name of lime- 
stone. Limestone is the country rock of all the Cottonwood, Ameri- 
can Fork, and Ophir Districts in Utah ; of the immediate vicinity 
of Leadville ; of some of the richest mines in Mexico, and of many 
other districts. In eastern Colorado we usually find granite, or some 
massive rock ; and in other districts the varieties are many. AVith 
these definitions you may form some idea of what the miner means 
by his first question about a new district: "What is the country 
rock?" That answered, he at once has some idea as to the value of 
the mines, for in some mysterious way the inclosing rock has deter- 
mined the ease with which the ore can be worked, and to some ex- 
tent its richness. For instance, carbonic acid being present in lime- 
stone, the reader will easily see why mines yielding carbonate ores 
must have one wall of that rock. The carbonic acid has been ab- 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 583 

sorbed by, and has changed the character of the ore, solid galena hav- 
ing been changed to carbonates ; and mines are occasionally found in 
which this process is not quite completed. 

And here we may appropriately indulge in a little popular science. 
The miner has his own name for each variety of ore known to him, 
while the chemist, or metallurgist, has his; but for the commoner 
varieties these names are the same, and are formed on a curiously con- 
venient system. If the term ends in yde, ide, or id, it means a com- 
bination of oxygen or some gas with the metal. Thus we have oxide 
of silver, etc., and chloride of silver, a chemical union of chlorine and 
silver, very rich and easily reduced, it being already in favorable com- 
bination with salt. If the termination is uret, it means a union of the 
actual substance with the silver, as sulphuret, a combination of sulphur 
and silver ; sulphuret of zinc, zinc and sulphur, etc. If it is ate, it 
means the acid combined with the mineral, making an entirely new 
compound; and of all these, carbonates of lead and silver are most 
familiar to the miner, and generally most welcome, being so easily re- 
duced. Of the carbonates of the Ophir District, it is said that they 
"run through a smelter like molasses," and those of Leadville are re- 
ported even more tractable, where there is lead enough in the com- 
bination. Many mines there have an additional element of iron, 
which is said to add to the ease of treatment. Galena, in miners' 
language, simply means lead in the ore; galeniferous, carrying lead, 
and argentiferous carrying silver. The bulk of ore from the large ore- 
bodies in Utah is simply argentiferous galena, and Gentile Utah is 
often spoken of poetically as Utah Argentifera. 

As aforesaid, the received opinion is that all carbonates were once 
galena, or some other solid ore; and not very long ago, as nature 
counts time. In the Emma iNIine, Utah, while shoveling up carbon- 
ates as loose as sand, one often comes upon a solid chunk of galena ; 
but in the Ophir District, the carbonates are bright and free from 
other ores. A pile of ore just from some of the mines there looks 
very like a mixture of sand and lime — the chemical union is com- 
plete. Galena is among the heaviest ores, and can nearly always be 
reduced by ordinary smelting, the lead and silver in combination sink- 
ing to the bottom, while the melted gangue, being lighter, rises and is 
drawn off as slag. Of course the bullion so obtained is nearly all 
lead, and the silver and lead must be separated by refining. Galena, 
when sufficiently pure, crystallizes in beautiful cubes; these, when 
crushed, break again into cubes, and so on indefinitely. In all the 
vast work-house of nature I know of nothing more marvelous than the 



584 WESTERN WILDS. 

crystallization of minerals. One forms a cube, another a hexagon, 
another a tetrahedron, and still another a dodecahedron ; some com- 
bine with faces at certain angles, and lines of cleavage parallel there- 
with; others at just half that angle, and still others in multiform fig- 
ures for which geometry has no name, but all symmetrical beyond the 
power of art to surpass. And no matter how broken, each crystal fol- 
lows the law of its cleavage; the cube breaks into cubes, the hexagon 
into hexagons, etc. 

Sulphuret is the general name of all silver ores in combination with 
sulphur. They are generally rich, mostly in hard rock, and always 
more or less rebellious. Nearly all the rich ores of eastern Colorado 
are of this class. The combinations are almost endless, and the, pres- 
ence of zinc, iron, or copper pyrites, antimony, arsenic, etc., presents 
a perplexing series of problems to the mill men. Sulphurets yield 
from §200 to $10,000 per ton, one mine sometimes yielding several 
different grades. Here and there on the face of an ore-seam are some- 
times found little accretions of pure silver, which miners speak of as 
" the fat of the vein." It is supposed that there was more silver than 
the other materials could hold in chemical union, so it overflowed in 
these nibs, which hang on the face of the seam like leaf-lard. Ac- 
cording to their purity, or the minerals mixed with them, such nibs 
are known as wire silver, horn silver, ruby silver, silver glance, azurite 
or tetrahedrite. A change of less than one per cent, in the accompa- 
nying chemical will often change entirely the color of such ore. 
Azurite is a combination of silver with blue carbonate of copper, and 
yields anywhere from $500 to $10,000 per ton. Tetrahedrite is so 
named from its crystallizing in tetrahedrons. Sulphurets of other 
metals are constantly met with, and greatly increase the dilftculty of 
r-eduction. " Black-jack," or zinc-blend, a sulphuret of zinc and cop- 
per, is a very troublesome combination. Chunks of it have been 
found assaying $500 per ton, but no man is anxious to find it in his 
mine for all that. It looks like a lump of black wax turned to vitre- 
ous stone, and is spoken of as " horribly rebellious." I have seen a 
lump of stuff from a sulphuret mine, no larger than my fist, which 
was shown by assay to contain twenty different minerals. Iron pyrites 
is a sulphuret of iron, protean in appearance, jocularly known as 
fool's gold. Most of the reported discoveries in the eastern states 
are due to this cheating mineral. 

In conclusion it may be said that from the differences herein de- 
scribed some important political consequences follow. First, that 
placer mines are almost a curse to a country, while lodes requiring 



MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. 585 

deep mining are a permanent blessing. For the placers attract a 
swarm of eager adventurers who hasten to exhaust the supply, often to 
demoralize the country, and then abandon it, while lodes require a 
vast outlay of capital and years of honest industry. The plant re- 
quires from $20,000 to $100,000 in capital and labor, and no good 
silver district is really developed in less than ten years, while for gen- 
erations thereafter work goes on with improved methods. Thus, per- 
manent towns and cities are built up, a good market is created, and 
the adjacent lands are brought under high cultivation ; trade is very 
active, and local manufactures are brought into existence. A thousand 
miners buy three times as much as a thousand farmers, for they pro- 
duce nothing they can use. Thus the old placer-mining counties of 
California are bankrupt and almost deserted, while the mineral devel- 
opment of Utah has more than doubled the value of real estate, and 
the mines of Colorado have made that State rich in farming and 
grazing. This distinction is worth considering if the reader thinks of 
making a settlement in some of the mining territories. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

MINING IN 1882. 

May, 1869, was rendered memorable by the opening of the first 
through railway line across the Continent; the spring of 1881 wit- 
nessed the opening of the second ; but it passed almost unnoticed, 
while that of 1861) was the occasion of a national jubilee. In a 
former chapter the reader will find some account of the projected 35th 
parallel road .and my journey over a portion of its line. The Northern 
Pacific is of national fame. The Texas Pacific, or 32d parallel, road 
was to run near the boundary between us and Mexico. But all these 
were outdone by the Southern Pacific of California, which was started 
to give San Francisco direct railroad connection with Arizona and 
New Mexico, and once fiiirly started was pushed forward towards 
Texas with amazing vigor. INIeanwhile, the Atchison, Topeka, and 
Santa Fe line was pushed on from La Junta, Colorado, its objective 
point being Guayamas, on the Pacific Coast of Mexico. Thus its line 
crossed that of the California road, at an acute angle, in the Florida 
Pass, New Mexico; and at that meeting they decided to make it one 
line for through business. So the first train, from ocean to river, on 
the new trans-continental, reached Kansas City almost unheralded 
and unnoticed. It is but a question of a few years Avhen both roads 
will be completed to their original destinations, and the Northern 
Pacific will be pushed through ; then four lines will connect us Avith 
the Pacific, and nearly one-half of the Wild West be abolished. 

Scarcely had the two roads touched their boundaries when the 
mineral wealth of New Mexico and Arizona was shown to be great; 
but other matters are of more immediate interest. First to l)c noted 
beyond La Junta is Trinidad, and sixteen miles beyond it a tunnel 
2,000 feet long, through which the railroad penetrates the Raton, over 
which I staged with such difficulty in 1872. Here the formation is 
carboniferous, and from immense mines coal is loaded on the cars at 
eighty cents a ton. Thence straight southward to Las Vegas, near 
the old stage line, tliC road running conveniently near to the great 
Hot Springs, which have already acquired fame as a sanitarium. 
From Galisteo a l)rnnch road runs up a canon to Santa Fe ; and so 
the queer old city has a railroad at last, though I was positive, in 
1872, from its position, that it never would have. From Albucjuerque 



MINING IN 1882. 587 

a branch rims along the old Atlantic and Pacific line to a point nearly 
a hundred miles west; so all that long dry way I journeyed with 
United States mules, is now traversed by rail, and the sad-eyed 
Zunis and strange old Pueblos are brought within four days ride 
of Cincinnati ! Whither shall the enterprising traveler now go for 
wild adventure? From Albuquerque the road continues down the 
Rio Grande over 100 miles and bears off to Florida Pass, w^iere, as 
aforesaid, it now connects with the California Pacific. Thence south- 
ward it icill continue — so the sanguine projectors assure us — down to 
Mexico City, sending off branches eastwardly to El Paso, and west- 
wardly to Guayamas. Already the work is being pushed rapidly 
from the Mexican ends of these lines, and the long criticized unenter- 
prising Spanish-Americans seem stirred into wonderful activity by the 
Yankee railroad builders. These wonderful schemes, so near comple- 
tion, almost force us mto rhapsody ; our most eloquent praise is a 
plain statement of what they have done and are doing. The coffee 
lands of Mexico are brought within a week's run of Boston; the 
Orient is at our back door ; Australasia is our near neighbor. 

From the San Francisco end of the Southern Pacific we run rapidly 
southward, and soon emerge on the awfully barren sand plains and 
red deserts of southeastern California. By common consent the 
Mohave and Yuma Desert, running away up into Utah and Nevada, 
is considered the most uniformly barren of any large tract in the Far 
West. Making all possible deductions for oases and green veg(AH, \t 
contains at least 80,000 square miles of irreclaimable desert. A nar- 
row line of faint green relieves the eye at Fort Yuma, where we cross 
the Colorado, to Yuma City on the east side, and soon after enter on 
the Gila Valley. This has an occasional oasis, but the Pueblos unite 
in testifying that from the date of their oldest traditions moisture has 
been decreasing and barrenness growing; and the local evidences 
prove it, the country being thick-set with the ruins of abandoned 
towns. First is the noted Casas Grandes, a vast pile of ruins with 
form enouMi to show that it is the remains of manv immense adobe 
buildings — all terraced and run together like those I described at 
Moqui. Smaller ruins are found by hundreds; by digging in them 
one can always find the floor of an old Aztec house, and under the 
hearth one will almost always find human bones, showing that they 
buried their dead there. In the Salt River valley are the remains of 
a canal nearly a hundred miles long, which once brought water from 
the Verde River to irrigate a large tract. Now the miners and pros- 
pectors are rapidly developing a new civilization on the tombs of the 



588 



WESTERN WrLDS. 



old, and iu a score of districts new mines are opened. That part of 
Pinal county north of the GiUi is almost covered by mining districts, 
among which the Globe and the Pioneer districts lead. In the 




CAPE HORN AND RAILROAD, SIERRA NEVADA. 



former is the noted Silver King, which is in many respects the most 
remarkable mine in America. 

Years ago, when the murderous Apaches held this region, an escap- 
ing Mexican brought into Tucson a large piece of pure native silver, 



MINING IN 1882. 589 

which he said he broke from an immense outcrop as he toiled on his 
devious Avay through the mountain passes. Great was the fever 
thereat, and many loose-footed men wanted him to guide them back ; 
but dread of the Apaches prevented. At length came a truce ; a rush 
was made, the mine was found, and the Mexican's description proved 
literally true. The ore was so rich that immense profits were made, 
before machinery could be brought in, by simply picking it by hand, 
sacking the best, and shipping it to San Francisco by mule-back and 
freight- wagon. The ore is peculiar, and the formation a puzzle to one 
who sees it for the first time. An expert sent from San Francisco to 
report thereon, condemned the mine as a flyer — that is, a mere freak 
of nature, without sign of permanence; but it has since that time 
yielded $1,200,000, and is still doing well. Globe City is new, but the 
district has forty mines within six miles of a common center. The 
town supports a newspaper and a branch telegraph down to the main 
line ; and already a branch railroad is projected to connect this group 
of mines, or rather this series of mining districts, with Tombstone and 
other more southern districts, crossing the Southern Pacific and 
traversing some good belts of timber. 

The Southern Pacific follows the general course of the Gila for a 
hundred miles or so to Maricopa, thence strikes straight southeast nearly 
a hundred more to Tucson, thence eastward to the rocky San Pedro^ 
w^hich it crosses in the midst of savage grandeur and sandy desolation. 
Here we will leave the railroad for awhile and stage it, southward, up 
the San Pedro, to the really marvelous district of Tombstone. There 
is enough even in the town to make a week's visit pass pleasantly if 
not profitably. In fact, the disagreeable feature will be found in the 
stage ride coming from the railroad station of Benson, about twenty- 
six miles distant. Large numbers of heavy freight teams are con- 
stantly coming and going, and every new road that the stage company 
makes to avoid the dust and chuck holes is almost immediately appro- 
priated by the freighters. The jolting is almost severe enough to dis- 
lodge a man's eyes from their sockets, while the dust is simply fright- 
ful. A passenger alights from the coach with eyes, ears, and mouth 
almost obliterated, while his hair and whiskers are turned to a creamy 
white by the villainous powder known as alkali dust. He would not 
be recognized by his own wife. There is an opposition stage, both 
lines running a double daily, in addition to cages carrying baggage 
and treasure. The fare is four dollars for the trip, and all the coaches 
appear to run full. Eighteen passengers is not considered by any 
means a large load. 



590 WESTERN WILDS. 

The road follows up the San Pedro llivor bottom and bluffs on an 
easy and imperceptible grade the entire distance. In places where the 
road crosses the creek, the scene is pleasant and agreeable, as this 
stream is the only living water the traveler will notice after leaving 
Yuma, a distance of about three hundred miles. Arriving at night the 
first impressions of the town are very favorable. The two long lines 
of streets, including the cross streets, are brilliantly illuminated, 
saloons particularly. They and the hotels run all night, while most 
of the stores are open up to a very late hour. As in all new mining 
camps, everybody is in a hurry to get rich, and the merchants form 
no exception to the rule. They think it necessary to take down their 
shutters at day-light in the morning and do not put them uji again 
until from nine to eleven p. m. 

The town is located on a kind of "hog's back," with the principal 
streets running parallel along the center on an almost even grade, 
while on either side there is a gentle slope, making a system of sewer- 
age easy of accomplishment. The majority of the buildings in the 
center of the business portion, are all two-story, and quite a number 
of new business houses are being erected, the material used being 
adobe, with brick fronts and finishing. Although lumber is compara- 
tively cheap, there being an abundance of timber in the mountains, 
about thirty miles distant, where a sawmill is located, very little is 
used to construct frame buildings, for, owing to the limited supply of 
water now brought in from the river, about eight miles distant, it is 
important to have fire-proof buildings. The mines on the ridge over- 
looking the town have struck pure water, which will be brought into 
reservoirs, giving an linlimited supply for all purposes. At present 
the supply is barely sufficient for drinking purposes, and we doubt if 
it would go around but for the innumerable saloons which furnish 
beer and whisky at a bit (12| cents) a drink, the two bit (25 cents) 
places being the exception. 

The banking houses, merchandise and general business establish- 
ments, are in a more prosperous condition. One bad feature of Cali- 
fornia is omitted here entirely, and that is the stock-gambling board. 
Nearly all the mining property is in the hands of corporations, and if 
you want to buy stock you can see the property and get just what you 
pay for. Money is more evenly distributed, there being none of that 
terrible gathering up of all the loose change the community has for 
the benefit of the wealthy mining stock manipulators. 

One may safely say that the merchandise business of the town is in 
the hands of old San Diego people, and the judiciary likewise. The 



MINING IN 1882. 591 

mines are OAvned in Boston, and the miners and prospectors come from 
Nevada. So the place is pleasantly composite. At the time the town 
site was located, no one supposed there was ore beneath. Now 
miners work continuously under the street, and in the still hours of 
the night you hear the constant exploding of giant powder blasts, 
which is a trifle jarring to the nerves of the property owners on the 
surflice, whose claim to the ground is disputed by the mining locator. 
There are half a dozen claimants to the ground. These conflicting 
claims do not seem to seriously trouble the business men, who get the 
best title they can and go ahead with their improvements. Possession 
is the most valid claim. It was so in the case of a shoemaker here, 
who, after paying three months rent to the supposed owner, on the 
fourth collection day declined to make any further payments, stat- 
ing that he had possession of the building and lot, also a shot-gun 
receipt, and would not stand any annoyance from collectors or 
lawyers. 

The town is strictly American ; there is none of the Spanish ele- 
ment. In fact, one seems to have passed entirely out of Arizona 
when he reaches here. The streets are wide, nicely graded, and laid 
out at right angles, with sidewalks in good repair. The hotels are 
good, although small, and the attention and table are equal to any in 
Los Angeles. Table vegetables are raised also in the neighborhood, 
and do much to make the fare tempting as compared with other Ari- 
zona towns, where everything is brought from Los Angeles. On the 
river at Charleston, nine miles distant, is an ice machine, and every 
morning the ice wagon goes its rounds, distributing a generous supply 
of cooling solid. The price is seven cents per pound, but these people 
have money and patronize the industry liberally. Two companies are 
on hand wanting a city franchise for lighting the streets Avith gas and 
electricity, and also one for a telephone system. When the matter of 
the franchise is settled, the town will be lighted and telephoned more 
in proportion to its population than any city on the coast. The busi- 
ness men located here are ambitious and enterprising, and are willing 
to pay for all the latest and most advanced improvements of modern 
civilization. Concerning the mines which have made this toAvn what 
it is in two short years, and mapped out a great future, they are claimed 
to be among the most extensive yet discovered. As yet this ore body 
is only prospected enough to know that it will pay, but mining men 
concede that in the few mines being worked they have probably six 
years' ore in sight, and beyond that no one can tell the extent of it. 
Years ago prospectors knew of rich deposits somewhere in this neigh- 



592 WESTERN WILDS. 

borhood, and made dcpperate attempts to secure the prize, as can be 
seen by the wreck of the old adobe building which is on the road to 
Charleston, and which the miners biiilt sixteen years ago as a common 
rendezvous and fort of protection against the Apaches. It is here 
that eleven of them perished so miserably by the hands of the red- 
skins. The present locations do not appear to have been the objec- 
tive point of these early prospectors, and the supposition is that other 
and richer deposits are yet to be found to the south and west. 

The bullion output for May, 1881, was set down at $482,106, but 
had the whole amount of custom work at the mills been cleaned up 
and added in, as the returns show, the amount would have reached 
$502,000. This result is enormous when one considers the limited 
facilities, there being only six small mills on the river. All the ore had 
to be hauled by team from nine to eleven miles. The hoisting works 
and machinery are of a very primitive nature, mostly hand windlasses or 
a whim and horse power. Only from a very rich quality of ore could 
any such result be obtained. True, it is not like the Comstock 
bonanza. The very rich streaks are small in extent, but the ore aver- 
ages well and there is little or no waste. When a ton of ore is 
hoisted to the surface it can all be put into the wagon and sent to the 
mill, when it will yield from $95 to $150. It is easily mined. One 
man, with the proper facilities, in one day of eight hours, will hoist to 
the surface one ton of ore ready for the mill. This is speaking in a 
general way of the average ore and what can be done when a mine is 
being worked fair and square. There are about a thousand miners 
employed, and the mines, for wages and milling expenses, disburse 
about $125,000 per month. There is also quite an army of freighters, 
blacksmiths, wheelwrights, and other laborers who follow on the heels 
of the freight teams. 

The surrounding country is both a farming and grazing district. 
Beef cattle and farm produce are in demand. Prospectors are going 
out daily. Capital is coming in and being invested. A destructive 
fire occurred at Tombstone, June 2.2, 1881, causing a loss of $250,000. 
Hundreds were rendered homeless. The fire department and officials 
worked hard, buildings being pulled down by mule teams and men, 
and the fire was checked. Much to the credit of Tombstone no j)anic 
ensued, as is generally the case in such disasters. 

So much for Tombstone ; and we have detailed its common life fully 
because it is just now the objective point of thousands. Let us return 
down the wild valley of the San Pedro, go on to the Gila, and thence 
northeastward to scenes we visited in 1872. The first fact to attract 



MINING IN 1882. 593 

attention is the amazing difference in climate and vegetation between 
this region and that north of the divide, in which we wandered ten 
years ago. We are away down on latitude 32° and 34°, and the 
strange tropical and desert flora give us the idea of a new creation. 
There are over one hundred varieties of the cactus, which is the plant 
of all the flir southwest. There is the cereus glgantcus, M'hich has at- 
tained a height of sixty feet and a diameter of three; the maguey, with 
a bulbous root as large as a half bushel ; the hedge cactus, with which 
Mexicans fence their fields ; the amok, used for soap, and many others. 
All bear fearful thorns and some a most exquisite fruit. From the 
maguey a very strong liquor is distilled, containing fourteen fights to 
the gallon. A good table syrup is also made from this plant. There 
is a great variety of flowers, and in the growing season the landscape 
often presents a gorgeous sight. About two-thirds of Arizona is cov- 
ered by mountains, fit only for grazing, timber, or mines; half the 
other third is a complete desert, and still there are at least 2,500,000 
acres of good land lying in position to be reclaimed by irrigation. 
But as most of this would require canals on a large scale, such as 
only government would undertake, there is probably less cultivated 
land in Arizona to-day than in any one county in Ohio. 

Coming back through New Mexico we find that old, old territory 
also waked up on the subject of her mineral wealth; development of 
many new and some old districts is in rapid progress, but statistics are 
not so easily obtainable. Let us get back into Colorado and take 
another start from Canon City, visiting Rosita and Silver Cliif. To 
reach them we take the Grape Creek line, nearly straight south, some 
thirty miles. The whole country abounds with wild scenery and 
startling curiosities. Local geologists have a theory that West 
Mountain Valley was once the bed and valley of the Arkansas river, 
as the same formation extends along both. On the east of it is the 
Greenhorn Range, and west of it the Sangre de Christo mountains ; 
and on the west side of the first, in a beautiful glade, is Rosita, with 
some 2,000 inhabitants. Eight miles away is the noted Silver Cliff, 
three years ago unknown and unnamed, to-day a city of 10,000 peo- 
ple, with miles of busy streets and all the bustle of a growing mining 
town. The valley northward from Rosita is very fertile, now taken 
up by ranches and meadows, which gives these two places an immense 
advantage in the matter of cheap food and fresh vegetables. 

The whole formation about Silver Cliff and Rosita is so remarkable 

that it would require a technical education in geology and mineralogy 

for the reader to understand it. Suffice it to sav tliat around and 
38 



594 



WESTERN WILDS. 



partly over an original granite ridge was poured, at a very late geolog- 
ical era, an enormous flow 
of porphyry, or trachyte; 
that after the trachyte had 
become solid rock there were 
tK^rrible convulsions which 
split and cracked it, and 
througli the cracks gushed 
streams of obsidian, or vol- 
canic glass. All these ap- 
pear as they hardened into 
shape ; so there is little 
wonder that the district 
was at first a great puzzle, 
seemingly destined to over- 
throw many old theories. 
Of course, too, there was 
great waste at first in work- 
ing this peculiar ore, but 
with experience tlie total 
cost per ton for mining and 
milling has been reduced to 
about seven dollars. This 
makes it possible to work 
ten ounce ore at a profit, 
and as the supply of ore of 
that grade is practically in- 
exhaustible, it looks as if 
this magic district would 
be as long-lived as it was 
noted for sudden growth. 
But time and space fail me 
to detail each of the rich 
districts of Colorado. The 
following table, showing the 
increase in the population 
of the state by counties, 
will give the reader a very 
fair idea of the localities in 
which the richest mines have been developed, since the crowd invari- 
ably flocks to those places in which the rich metal is found : 




GIANTESS, BTG GEYSER OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 



MINING IN 1882. 



595 



Counties. 


Population 

1870. 


POPULA'JtON 

1880. 


Arapahoe 


6,829 

592 

1,939 

New 

1,596 

2,504 

1,779 

New 

1,388 

510 

987 

1,064 

5,490 

New 

New 

New 

2,250 

2,390 

522 

New 

838 

4,276 

New 

447 

2,265 

New 

New 

304 

New 

258 

1,636 


38 607 


Bent 


1 654 


Boulder 


10 055 


Chaflee 


6 503 


Clear Creek 

Conejos . . . . 


7,857 
5 616 


Costilla 


2 885 


Custer 


7 968 


Douglas 


2,486 
1 710 


Elbert 


El Paso 


7 903 


Fremont 


4,730 


Gilpin 


6,493 


Grand 


417 


Gunnison 


8 764 




1 508 


Huerfano 


4 149 




6 811 


Lake 


23 787 




1,110 

4 862 


Larimer 


Las A nimas 


8,909 

2 677 


Ouray 


Park 


3 956 


Pueblo 


7 617 


Eoutt 


1,946 
140 




1 972 


San Juan 


1 087 




5 449 


Weld 


5,603 




Total 


39,864 


195 "31 







Au increase of 155,370 for the decade just gone is a showing of 
which the Centennial state should feel proud. It is safe to predict a 
still greater increase for the ten years to come. 

Almost any railroad office can supply you a table of distances and 
fares from Denver to all points in Colorado ; and from eastern cities to 
Denver rates have been so materially reduced that the cost of a sum- 
mer in the Switzerland of America is brought within the reach of 
nearly all enfeebled professional men. 

Of other mining regions but brief mention is necessary. In the 
Black Hills a prosperous community has suddenly grown up which 
already challenges the attention of the Avorld ; Nevada continues to 
pour out her treasures, and generally throughout the Rocky INIountains 
the business of mining grows with pleasing regularity. The following 



596 WESTERN WILDS. 

table, from the Mining Commissioner of the United States, shows it 
better at a glance than wonld many pages of comment: 

Annual Product of Lead, Silver, and Gold. 

1870 $52,150,000 

1871 55,784,000 

1872 60,351,824 

1873 70,139,860 

1874 71,965,610 

1875 76,703,433 

1870 87,219,859 

1877 95,811,582 

1878 78,276,167 

1879 72,688,888 

1880 77,232,512 

Total $798,323,735 

Adding the growth of 1881, and omitting the lead, we find that the 
United States now produces annually at least $78,000,000 in silver 
and gold. Thus, in the language of Commissioner Raymond, "The 
western states and territories bear witness of our great inheritance of 
natural wealth. Every period of geological change has been laid 
under contribution to endow with rich legacies some portion of our 
land. Our territory epitomizes the processes of all time, and their use- 
ful results to man. Divided, yet in a stronger sense united, by 
mountain chains and mighty rivers, our diversified mineral resources 
may figuratively represent and literally help to secure and maintain 
our characteristic national life — a vast community of communities, 
incapable alike of dissolution and of centralization ; one, by mutual 
needs and affections, as the continent is one ; many, by multiform 
industries and forms of life, as the members of the continent are 
maay." 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE DEAD PROPHET. 

While the first edition of this work was going through the press, 
the telegraph announced the death of Brigham Young. To Americans 
generally this was simply a bit of interesting news, for this man was, in 
the language of Elijah Pogram, " one of the most remarkable men of 
our country." But what Gentile can realize the awful import of that 
message to the 75,000 orthodox Mormons of Utah ; to the 4,000 Saints 
in Great Britain; to the converts in Scandinavia, and the "stakes of 
Zion" in Arizona, Idaho and the Sandwich Islands In 1870 there 
were, among European races, but three persons who were at once 
heads of Church and State : the Pope, Queen Victoria and Brigham 
Young. The British Church is not yet "disestablished," but the 
Pope has lost his temporal power and Brigham Young is dead. It 
was said, a few years since, anent the Beecher and Clendenning trials 
and similar cases, " This is a hard year for parsons." Similarly : 
This is certainly a bad period for theocrats. We may yet live to see 
the Church of England divorced from the civil power. . 

I am no believer in that evasive maxim : De mortuis nil nisi bonum. 
Certainly not, when the dead are public characters. The dead Avere 
once alive, and moral responsibility is not evaded by the mere physical 
incident of death ; and living rulers must learn to act with the as- 
sured conviction that they will be judged after death. Of all, there- 
fore, which the foregoing pages contain regarding Brigham Young I 
have nothing to recant; it was my candid conviction when I wrote 
it it is my assured belief now. That it will be the unanimous ver- 
dict of posterity, I have not a shadow of doubt. It was not written 
without overwhelming evidence to support it ; revelations yet to be 
made in Utah, and hastened by Brigham's death, will only add to 
that evidence. I merely ask that the reader will, in previous chapters, 
substitute the past tense for the present where Brigham is mentioned. 
It only remains to add a few incidents in the life of this remarkable 
adventurer ; his person and character have been sufficiently described 
in Chapter VI. 

Brigham Young was born June 1, 1801, in Whittingham, Wind- 

* (597) 



598 WESTERN WILDS. 

ham County, Vermont. His father was an old Revolutionary soldier, 
of Massachusetts, the parent of six sons and five daughters. This 
whole family embraced Mormonism soon after Brigham did. Tlie 
father died in one of the early migrations of the Mormons in Mis- 
souri ; the sons and daughters lived to go into polygamy in Utah, and 
become the parents of large families. None of Brigham's brothers 
ever evinced any special talent for any thing. Phinehas and Lorenzo 
Dow Young were barely mediocre ; '' Uncle John " Young for many 
years was Patriarch of the Church, but was a mere puppet as pulled 
by Brigham; Joseph sometimes preached, but with no particular 
force, and the fifth brother was of so little consequence that his name 
is scarcely known in Utah. Nor did any of them acquire property to 
any great extent ; at least two were so poor they had to accept assist- 
ance — it might be called charity — from Brigham. The sisters are 
equally obscure. Whatever Brigham's talent was, he alone of the 
family possessed it. I have repeatedly talked with his nephews and 
grandchildren concerning him ; but his career was as much a mystery 
to them as to the Gentile world. Oscar Young, Brigham's oldest 
child in polygamy, is now a thorough-going Gentile, and a frank, 
outspoken gentleman; but to him, as to strangers, his fiither's real 
nature Avas a sealed book. 

Early in life Brigham married, and was early left a widower with 
two daughters, both now living in polygamy in Utah. Mormonism 
first took form as a religion in 1830, and among the first preachers 
sent out was Samuel H. Smith, youngest brother of the Prophet Jo- 
seph. He met and exhorted Brigham, and almost " converted " him. 
A little later, in 1832, he gave in his adhesion to the new faith, and 
was baptized by Elder Eleazar Miller. He at once set out for 
Kirtland, whither the young church was gathering; came upon Joe 
Smith while the latter was chopping in the woods, and, according to 
their mutual account, was at once blessed exceedingly. Joseph pro- 
nounced him a man of wonderful powers, gifted of God for the 
furtherance of the faith, and added that he would "one day lead the 
Church." The anti-Brighamite Mormon sects add that Joseph also 
said: "And he will lead it to hell." He should have said so if he 
did not, for it has proved very near the truth. 

Brigham had previously quit farm life to become a painter and 
glazier, and he now exercised his trade upon the Temple at Kirt- 
land, glazing the windows with his own hands. It was soon discov- 
ered by Joseph that Brigham was the most practical of all his con- 
verts; and, as that sort of a man was badly needed, he advanced rap- 



THE DEAD PROPHET. 599 

idly in rank. The new church was now on the high tide of furious 
fonaticisra. The accounts given by a score of eye-witnesses would be 
utterly incredible, did we not know from undoubted history, what 
such religious mania tends to. Visions, dreams, miracles, speaking 
in tongues and the interpretation of tongues followed in constant 
succession. In their " experience meetings " the rule was for each 
brother to rise and " utter whatsoever sounds came in his mind," the 
speaker being assured that " God will make it a language." Some 
men professed to see the Saviour and various holy persons; others 
ran through the woods shouting and praying; some fell into trances, 
and many recited rhapsodies or delivered prophecies. Through all 
this madness, Brigham, it is generally agreed, carried a level head. 
It was then supposed that every Saint had the gift of prophecy, but 
Joe Smith soon returned from a preaching tour in Canada and the 
Eastern States and rectified that matter. It was announced that he 
alone held the true prophetic gift. The general madness subsided; 
several converts apostatized, and by their statements, published 
broadcast, brought great scandal on the Church. 

The Saints now established a cooperative mill, store and bank ; for, 
as some wealthy men had joined, they were able to collect some 
$20,000 in cash. Meanwhile the neighboring people held a meeting 
and deputized one of their number to go back to Joe Smith's old 
home in New York, and collect evidence as to his character. Sixty- 
six of his old neighbors joined in an affidavit that they "would not 
believe Joseph Smith or any of his gang under oath." It was also 
abundantly proved that the Book of Mormon was a weak rehash of a 
weak "historical novel," written by one Solomon Spaulding. But 
such evidence has no effect on the class of minds caught by Mor- 
monism. Troubles increased between the Saints and their neighbors; 
finally mill, store and bank failed, and Smith and Rigdon ran away 
to Missouri to escape the sheriff. All this time Brigham labored in 
his steady way, and was known among the brethren as " hard-working 
Brigham Young." 

The Saints had made their first settlement in Missouri, at Independ-= 
ence, in the spring of 1831, but were driven across to Clay County in 
the fall of 1833. The people of the latter county "requested" them 
to move again ; so they settled in Ray and Caldwell, built the town 
of Far West, and eventually got political control of that section. 
Then trouble arose, of course. When the Mormons elected the of- 
ficials there was no justice for Gentiles, and the latter commenced fight- 
ino-. Brigham had meanwhile been advanced to the rank of an apostle, 



GOO WESTERN WILDS. 

and was creclitcd with having added many hundred converts to the 
Church. In the h\te autumn of 1838 open war broke out. Enraged at 
some of their neighbors the Mormons drove them from their homes, and 
eventually burned the town of Gallatin. They had previously driven 
all dissenters away from Far West. In the first regular battle that en- 
sued Edward Patton, an apostle, was killed ; and, on the trials following, 
Orson Hyde, President of the Twelve, turned State's evidence. This 
left Brighara the senior apostle, and therefore President. But the 
battle went against the Saints. Joseph and Hyrum, and nearly all the 
leaders, were captured and imprisoned; Brigham and others escaped to 
Illinois, and in the winter of 1838-39 all the lay members followed 
them. Josejjh and the others escaped early in 1839, and the Church 
was once more organized, with Quincy, Illinois, as head-qukrters. 

Dr. Isaac Galland at that time owned a large tract of land at the 
head of Des Moines liapids, on the Mississippi, part of which he 
deeded to Joe Smith, on condition that he would settle his people 
there, and build a city. Forthwith Joe had a revelation that that was 
to be the great "Stake ofZion" for the present; sold city lots at high 
prices, and grew very wealthy, while the magic city of Nauvoo sprang 
up. Brigham went to England ; reorganized the British mission ; es- 
tablished the Millennial Star, which has ever since been the foreign 
organ of the Saints; did wonders as a missionary, and came home in a 
year with seven hundred and sixty-nine converts. Thereafter he stood 
very close to the Prophet. But among those converts was a pretty 
English girl, named Martha Brotherton, whom Brigham wanted for a 
spiritual wife ; she rebelled, apostatized, revealed the inner Avorkings 
of the Church, and thus set up a popular outcry against the Saints. 
Polygamy was regularly established — so says the revelation — in 1843; 
and early in 1844 a paper was started in Nauvoo by some opponents 
of the system, called the Expositor. It was "abated as a nuisance " by 
the Saints, for which Smith and his brother Hyrum were arrested; 
and while in jail they were murdered by a mob, June 27, 1844. 

The Church was now without a head. Brigham, as President of the 
Twelve Apostles, claimed that they should govern till God raised up 
a leader. Sidney Rigdon claimed the right of succession, because he 
stood next in rank to the dead Prophet; William Smith claimed it as 
the only surviving member of the Smith family; and Strang, Brewster, 
Hedrick, Cutler, and others put in their claims. But Brigham circum- 
vented them all. Rigdon had a revelation that the wealthy members 
led by him were to found a new "stake" for the others to gather to; 
then the Church would grow till able to conquer all the kingdoms of 



THE DEAD PROPHET. 601 



the earth ; he would lead a party to rebuild Jerusalem, " and stop at 
London on the way home to pull the nose of Little Vic!" He was 
brought to trial as an impostor and disturber, Brighara acting as 
principal accuser ; was " cut oif, condemned, and delivered to the buf- 
fetings of Satan for a thousand years."^ About a hundred voted " not 
guilty." These were at once brought to trial and " cut oif." It was 
then moved, and unanimously carried, that all who should hereafter ad- 
here to Rigdon should be " cut off." The church led oif by Rigdon has 
long since gone to pieces, and he died not long ago near Pittsburgh. 
All the other factions have broken up, and the remnants reorganized as 
" Josephites," under the lead of young Joe Smith ; except that a small 
branch exists at Independence, Mo., and in that vicinity. The main 
body who followed the Twelve — Brigham being then merely President 
of the Twelve— were called " Twelveites; " but are now considered the 
Mormon Church proper. 

It was not long till Brigham was exercising all the power of the 
apostolic quorum, the other eleven soon sinking into mere lieutenants. 
He finished the Temple, hurried the people through their " endow- 
ments," in which they were bound to the Church by the most terrible 
oaths, and hastened the preparations for departure. In January, 1846, 
he and eight of the apostles started westward, and Avith them 2,000 
of the people. Others went as fast as they could ; by May, 1G,000 
Mormons had left, and not more than 2,000 remained in Nauvoo. 
But an irregular war with their neighbors went on ; and in Septem- 
ber, 1846, a body of 1,000 or 1,500 militia besieged the city for three 
days, and finally expelled the remaining Mormons at the point of the 
bayonet. The Saints spent the fall of 1846 and ensuing winter and 
spring in a line of camps in Avestern Iowa and eastern Nebraska ; and 
as soon as possible Brigham started with one hundred and forty-three 
men to hunt a location " in some valley in the Rocky Mountains." 
Before leaving Illinois he had received a copy of Fremont's Report 
from Governor Thomas L. Ford, who suggested one of the large val- 
leys of the Wasatch as their best location. The pioneer party entered 
Salt Lake Valley the 23d of July, but Brigham had remained in the 
canon and did not come in till the next day. Reaching the present 
site of the city he exclaimed : " This is the place," and ordered a halt 
at once. Prayer was offered, a plow was lifted from the wagon, and 
a considerable garden-spot plowed before night. A heavy thunder- 
shower came on that day— a very rare occurrence at that time in the 
Great Basin in summer, and a good omen to the Saints. They put in 
a crop, from which those who stayed gathered potatoes about the size 



602 WESTERN WILDS. 

of chestnuts, and other things in proportion. Brighani returned that 
autumn to Council Bhilfs, and at a conference held soon after, was 
chosen to all the honors and titles of the dead Prophet Joseph. 
Thenceforward Brighani was Prophet, Priest, Seer and Revelator, 
first President and Trustee-in-trust of the Church of Jesus Christ of 
Latter-day Saints. The Mormons were hurried forward to the valley 
as fast as possible; there a pure theocracy, of the most absolute char- 
acter, was established, and Brigham ruled as Lord temporal and spir- 
itual, till late in 1850, when Congress organized the Territory of Utah. 

jNIeanwhile the Mormons had filled the country with written, 
printed, and sworn denials of the existence of polygamy, and Col. 
Thomas L. Kane had indorsed their denials; so President Fillmore 
appointed Brigham Young Governor of the new Territory, an office 
he held till 1857. The President appointed one Mormon U. S. 
District-Judge, the other two being Gentiles ; a Mormon District- 
Attorney, and a Gentile Secretary, dividing the offices very fairly. 
Of course there was trouble. Brigham kept the people in such an 
excited state that the two Gentile judges soon left — not to put too fine 
a point upon it, ran away, to the great delight of the Saints. And 
soon after, at the annual festival, the following toast was rapturously 
applauded: "Our runaway judges; may they goon to where they 
belong — to hell!" And to further demonstrate his loyalty Brigham 
preached a sermon on the " earthly reign of the Saints," in which he 
said : " In that day the chief men of the earth will come to us begging 
for a place ; I expect the President of the United States to black my 
boots ! " Polite reference to the gentleman who had made him Gov- 
ernor. But this sort of thing greatly delighted the foreign-born 
serfs — natural snobs — who constituted a majority of the Church laity. 
Unfortunately for them, Secretary Harris concluded to go with the 
judges; and in spite of threats and injunctions, carried with him the 
$24,000 Congress had appropriated to pay the legislature of the new 
Territory, and the Mormons never got a cent of it. This hurt Brig- 
ham — right where he lived. He did not get reconciled to it, till long 
after he had become a millionaire. 

In 1854, President Pierce decided to appoint another governor, but 
could find no suitable person to take the place. J\Iore judges were 
appointed, and things ran along pretty smoothly till 1856, when the 
climax of Mormon fanaticism was reached ; murder by wholesale was 
inaugurated, the judges were driven out, and the Mormon war began. 
As a result of that war, Brigham ceased to be Governor; and a some- 
what better state of thino;s was established. We have now done with 



THE DEAD PRODHET. 60o 

Brigham as a Federal official, backed by the authority of the United 
States ; it is time to consider him as a marrying man, a husband and 
a father, in which capacity he is most popularly known. Brigham 
had two reasons for being a marrying man : ambition and a vigorous, 
sensual physique. He had a peculiar magnetic power over some 
people. The way it affected some women may be guessed from the 
fact that one of the handsomest ladies in Nauvoo got divorced from a 
good man, in order to be Brigham's concubine, and a refined, rather 
intelligent Boston lady literally followed him off, taking along her two 
children to be reared in ISIormonism. Brigham was rather kind to 
this one: called her "Augusta," and honored her with his supreme 
affections for three whole years. 

Brigham's physique was the very best that cool, hardy Vermont 
could furnish. His youngest child, daughter of Margaret Van Cott 
Young, was born in 1870; his oldest, now the wife of Edmund Ells- 
worth, must have been born as early as 1825, for Brigham was a 
widower with two daughters when he joined the Mormons ; and his 
grandchildren in this line are now well advanced men and women. 
So his active parental life covered a period of forty-five years, and 
(though I have no late returns) his children, grandchildren, and 
great-grandchildren number at least one hundred and fifty. Not bad 
for an alkali country ! Add widows and sons-in-law, and grandsons- 
in-law, and the number interested in the estate amounted to some two 
hundred. 

The old man outlasted three generations of wives, and had made 
a pretty good start on the fourth ; for he married Amelia Folsom in 
1865, and the last time I saw her she was beginning to look like an 
old woman. Brigham lost his first wiffe quite young. Her daughters 
are both in polygamy — that is, their husbands have other " women " 
than them, and have large families. Their daughters also have many 
children, and, counting his first and second wives, it is said by some, 
who ought to know, that Brigham's legitimate offspring are, after all, 
nearly as numerous as his illegitimate. About the time he was " con- 
verted," he married Mary Ann Angell. She was his only legal widow 
and lived for many years in the "white cottage on the bench" — 
that is, on the hill just back of Brigham's. She was of the same age 
as Brigham, and about 1843, he began on his second lot of wives. 
Joe Smitli got his " Revelation on Celestial Marriage," July 12, 1843, 
and as soon thereafter as Brigham could get authority, he married the 
Decker sisters. One of them, Lucy, had been for some time married 
to Dr. Seely, a reputable physician of Nauvoo, but the High Council 



604 WESTERN WILDS. 

unceremoniously set that marriage aside ; Brighara took her, and the 
doctor went to " grass." 

His fourth M'ife was Harriet Cook, whom he took soon after the 
exodus from Nauvoo ; but she was a "rebellious spirit," and at 
Winter Quarters (now Florence, Nebraska), "the devil entered in^o 
and did possess her." (For " possession," and the plan of relief 
adopted, see Captain Dan Jones' account in the 11th volume of the 
Millennial Star; also, Pratt's Key to Theology, and other Mormon 
works.) As a result she railed on Brigham, and denounced polygamy, 
and ended by trying to strangle her baby, Oscar Young. Brigham 
managed to prevent that, and in due time " the devil left her ; " but 
he swore she should never become a mother tlie second time. And 
she did not. He married a few more wives while establishing the 
settlement in Utah ; but all of this lot retired from business as early 
as 1855 or 1860. 

His great favorite then, and the one who retained his affections the 
longest, was Emmeline Free, from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. 
And she was truly a lovely woman. Her children are, I think, the 
handsomest of Brigham's offspring, and she bore him ten. Pie was 
proud of her beauty and accomplishments, and for at least twelve years 
she was beyond question the queen of his heart. But youth and 
beauty can't last always, and about 1865, Brigham began to hanker 
for a new deal. Then Emmeline became desperate. She applied to 
Mary Ann Angell, the first wife, for help to prevent another marriage, 
but the latter was long past taking any interest in such things. After 
two or three trials with rather common wives, who did not please him 
more than a few months, Brigham's affections twined around Amelia 
Folsom ; and there they clung till his death, save for a few side dis- 
turbances, most noted of which was the alimonious Ann Eliza. Em- 
meline was literally heart-broken, and, to add to her troubles, she had 
to bear the reproaches and taunts of those she had once displaced. 
She took to opium for consolation, and died in the summer of 1875, a 
perfect wreck — a confirmed " morphine drunkard ! " 

I think it was about a week after the burial of Emmeline (she was 
buried with surprising indifference to details and appearances) tliat 
we had a large party of excursionists from the East. They all called 
on Brigham, and paid their most profound respects, and w'ere posi- 
tively indignant at some of us resident Gentiles for the w^ar w^e made on 
the hierarchy. One lady took me to task very severely, and afterward 
sent me a clipping from an Eastern paper, with her able defense of 
Brigham therein. I like to hear Eastern people apologize for polyg- 



THE DEAD PROPHET. 



605 



amy — especially ladies. They go about it so logically, and it sounds 
so natural. 

Well, Amelia became the recognized Queen of the Harem in 1866, 
and ruled the old fellow ever after. It was hinted that she knew too 
much, and that he would have liked to "shake" her, but did not 
dare. All the style of all the other wives put together would not 
equal hers. She occupied an elegant palace built for her sole self, 




THE MOKMON TABERNACIiE. 



across the street from the main hennery, and generally lives more like 
the wife of a millionaire and great leader, than did any of her 
predecessors. Brigham enjoyed four or five flirtations after 1866, and 
married a time or two, but none of them amounted to any thing. It 
would appear that Ann Eliza rather thought she could supersede 
Amelia, and did hold her own well for a few months, but the other 
soon knocked her clear out of the ring. Hence these tears. Margaret 
Van Cott, one of the latest, is a good woman, and a mother, too ; and 
it is said this last circumstance irritates Amelia more than any thing 
else. She has not been at all reticent in her insinuations about " thai 



606 WESTERN WILDS. 

woman's baby," but nobody believes such charges ; the character of 
Margaret is too well established. Saint and Gentile are willing to 
swear that her little girl is honestly entitled to the two hundredth 
part of that big estate. 

But there was one woman, Selina Ursenbach, who, could Brigham 
have won her, would have made it lively for Amelia. She was the 
sister of Octave Ursenbach, famous in Utah as the architect who de- 
signed the big organ in the Mormon Tabernacle. Brigham was in 
love for the thirtieth time, and his love was warm — warmer than his 
youthful passion in a geometrical progression. Selina was a young, 
beautiful Swiss lady. She played on all musical instruments, and 
spoke the purest French. Brigham made himself a perfect dandy for 
her sake. She smiled on a young fellow, and Brigham sent him away 
on a mission. Then Selina got disgusted, apostatized from the Church, 
and went back to Switzerland. But if Brigham could have lived out 
his days, as nature intended, he might in turn have set aside Amelia, 
and gone on with the fifth generation of " wives " in the old style, as 
when in his prime his affection was a flowering annual, or semi-annual, 
blooming anew every spring and fall, and clinging to new supports 
each time. 

To conclude, those best informed sum up thus : Brigham had from 
first to last been actually married twenty-nine times; the largest num- 
ber of wives he ever had at one time was twenty-three, of whom fif- 
teen survive him. But he had been "sealed," on the "spiritual wife'" 
system, to quite a number of pious old ladies, with whom he had 
nothing to do in this world, but who are to be his in eternity ; and of 
his actual wives four belong to Joe Smith, having been the hitter's at 
Nauvoo, and being destined for him in eternity. And do the women 
believe this sort of thing? asks an amazed reader. Well, some of 
them do, and the rest fall in with the prevailing tendency of the 
society they move in, just as the majority of women do evcry-where. 
Take women as a mass, and that which is established is right. And 
right here I would protest against that arrant stupidity, so common in 
the East, that men alone are responsible for polygamy ; that the 
" poor women are the victims," and that women would, under cer- 
tain circumstances, put a stop to it. It is akin to that spurious and 
sickly sensibility of the French school (see Victor Hugo and Wilkie 
Collins), which makes a prostitute the heroine of the drama; and 
has maudlin sentiment for "Mercy Merrick" and "Fantine," but sar- 
casm for the honest woman. It certainly requires no great amount 
of robust common sense to see that sexual sin requires two suincrs ; 



THE DEAD PROPHET. 607 

and that in such a matter the woman knows right from wrong as ^\-elI 
as the man. The young woman who joins herself to a man who 
ah-eady has a wife, does so in the confident belief that she will always 
be his favorite ; and when she is in turn discarded, she has none but • 
herself to blame. 

Well, Brigliam was buried with great pomp — though his grave is 
now sadly neglected and unadorned — and two questions at once 
pressed for solution : who was to succeed, and who to get his property ? 
There was no law and no well established precedent in either case. 
Utah had no marriage act, no dower law, and no statute strictly pro- 
viding for descent and distribution of property. When a polygamist 
died, the church took charge of and divided the estate according to 
their notions of equity. When the United States courts were estab- 
lished, a few first wives came in and claimed their legal rights, exclud- 
ing polygamous wives and children entirely. It would seem, then, 
that if Brigham's legitimate children had chosen to do so, they could 
have taken the whole estate, which was roughly appraised at 
$1,200,000. But the church had an enormous claim against Brigham, 
amounting, as some asserted, to $1,500,000. Some of the children 
protested and threatened legal proceedings; one actually commenced a 
suit; but cooler counsels prevailed; and as all the illegitimates were on 
the same terms, they finally settled in a way not known to the world, 
and very disgusting to the lawyers. It was simply impossible to 
make a legal decision as to what property was actually his and what 
that of the church, for the title of all was vested in him. So, as sup- 
posed, the family got a third or more, the church at least half, and it 
is safe to suppose that a large per cent, stuck to the fingers of those 
apostles who managed the settlement. 

And then came the surprise. It had long been supposed by Gen- 
tiles, and secretly dreaded by Mormons, that Brigham's death would 
be the beginning of the end — of a dispute about the succession, end- 
ing in apostasy and schism. On the contrary matters were managed as 
easily as when Arthur succeeded Garfield. The Twelve Apostles 
took charge, just as the same body did after Joe Smith's death, and 
in due time John Taylor, President of the Twelve, just as Brigham 
had climbed to the seat of Joseph, succeeded to all the houors and 
titles of the deceased Brigham. Orson Hyde, former President of the 
Twelve, had been deposed and invited to a lower scat in the quorum ; 
and it was well for the Saints that it was so, for he Mas a constitu- 
tional blunderer, given to indvdgence in red hot prophecies which were 
g-enorallv falsified before thev were a vcar old. Orson Pratt was the 



608 WESTERN WILDS. 

ho^t, indeccl the only, scliolar among the twelve, but a dreaming as- 
tronomer Avhose head was among the stars. In his prime he was 
quite a man, and his noted debate with Dr. J. P. Newman showed 
some talent, but he was even then falling into rapid deeay, and has 
since died very poor, much broken in mind and wretchedly neglected. 
George Q. Cannon, then delegate in Congress, had long schemed for 
the succession and would have filled Brigham's place quite fairly; but 
Taylor had a warmer place in the Mormon heart, and for the few 
years he lias to live he will enjoy, with Queen Victoria, the distinc- 
tion of being a joint S2)iritual and temporal sovereign — these two the 
onli/ ones in the civilized world since A^ictor Emanuel took his states 
from the Pope. 

There is something ludicrous and suggestive in the total collapse of 
all the great plans Brigham, and Joseph Smith before him, had made 
for their sons. Joseph had ordained his son Joseph, who is now ac- 
knowledged by the Josephites, and Brigham had relied on his son 
Brigham to succeed him. The latter is familiarly known as the Fat 
Boy, and his father tried long and earnestly to make him a ruler, but 
it was a hopeless case. The people laughed at it even before the 
senior's death. For awhile the father placed his hopes on his son 
Joseph A., who was a decidedly 2)lcasant and liberal minded gentle- 
man; but, alas, he looked upon the A^alley Tan M'hen it was red, and 
died suddenly, in 1875, of whisky cramp. Then the father's heart 
turned to John W., then called his apostate son, who had left the 
church and married a lady in Philadelphia. Excited with an ambi- 
tion to succeed his father, he repudiated his Gentile (and truly gentle) 
wife, was rebaptized into the church, took some more wives, and 
was made First Councilor — only one remove from head. His crimi- 
nal compliance was in vain. He believed in Mormonism no more 
than you or I, and the Mormon people knew it. He was not even 
mentioned for the place. 

But a few years more and all the original Mormons will be 
gone, Taylor among them. Soon or late I fancy those who hold 
out faithful will find themselves adhering to one of the sons of Joe 
Smith, for they alone have prophecy in their favor. Nobody need 
hope that Mormondom will suddenly dissolve. I lack space to show 
why the mass of the people must hold together; but for years to come 
they dare not dissolve. Two or three thousand men and four times 
as many women are in polygamy; they must stick to an institution 
which confers a sort of respectability on their condition. Twenty 
thousand young people are of polygamous birth. As long as possible 



THE DEAD PROPHET. 609 

they will sustain laws and social cnstoms which make them legitimate. 
Two hundred Mormons have committed murder. Once break the 
solid alignment that now exists, divide them into sects fighting each 
other, and the Gentile courts would have these men on the scaffold in 
two years. Of those not in polygamy, two-thirds Iiave near relatives 
in it. They can not easily cut loose and stigmatize these. In 
property matters they are inextricably entangled. By the " Order of 
Enoch," the "consecration of property," and the "perfect oneness in 
Christ," their homesteads have been deeded back and forward, tied 
over and under and criss-crossed, so there is no getting out till all are 
willing to go and settle things on a basis of pure equity. The apos- 
tates must have a clear majority of three to one before they can do 
anv thing, for the elders hold the striuirs. 

Through every part of the social organism runs a complex set of 
stringers, which will bind it together till all the old Mormons die. 
The process of disintegration may be rapid enough to end it in ten 
years, but I doubt it. And at least half of them still believe the 
faith; the women being twice as fanatical as the men. It may inter- 
est some people to know that the mens conscia recti, of which some 
religionists boast, is but a trifle to the women's conscia recti; and 
both are always the strongest in the loMer religious types. Or, in 
plain English, the bigger fool a man is the more positive is he that 
he knows the design of God; and, other tilings being equal, the 
woman is more positive than the man. 

Nothing used to vex us more when I lived in Utah, than the 
amiable folly of certain Eastern people who imagined that this, or 
that, or the other trifling agency would put an end to theocratic 
tyranny. But above all others were we annoyed and hindered by 
the nonsense of those who fancied the Mormon Avomen would effect 
a revolution by their votes! Who does not know that if the women 
were opposed to polygamy, it could not exist anyhow? 

The growing society follows pretty closely the analogy of the 
human body. Introduce a foreign substance, and an effoit is made 
to expel it; if unsuccessful, the organism at once begins to accommo- 
date itself thereto, and does It or dies. Similarly, whatever custom or 
social anomaly you introduce Into a society, that society Imraediatelv 
begins to adapt Itself thereto, and In a surprisingly short" space of time 
all the petty observances and habits of thought are adjusted to the cus- 
tom. Take the most pronounced monogamist to Utah and let him 
live on Intimate terms with the Mormons for awhile, and all the nov- 
elty vanishes; he hears people talk of first, second, and third wives 



010 WESTERN WILDS. 

with scarcely a thought. It is the control the church exercises over 
business and government tliat perpetually irritates him — theocracy, not 
polygamy, is the object of liis hate. 

And this, too, aids in giving us the proper estimate of the inexcus- 
able folly of learned ministers who go to Utah to argue the question on 
Old Testament grounds. Just as if polygamy, slavery, incest, and ex- 
terminating wars were right noic, because wandering patriarchs in the 
childhood of the world were excused in the practice of them. Even 
if Hebrew polygamy could be proved right, Mormon polygamy Avould 
be all the more wrong, because it permits the marriage of close blood 
relatives. Incest, as allowed in Utah, would be just as much under 
the ban of law if the Bible had never been written ; for its criminality 
depends not on a command, but on a law of nature, and the more civil- 
ized a people become the more deadly and destructive is the crime. 
Savages have no hereditary diseases : their mode of life kills all sickly 
stocks, and only the fittest survive. But in civilized life one half the 
families have some teudency to scrofula, insanity, or consumption. 
The chances are even that two cousins have inherited a common tend- 
ency from the common ancestor; if they marry, that tendency is 
doubled or quadrupled in their offspring. If one marries an alien 
with a different temperament, they may justly hope to have inherited 
diverse tendencies which may neutralize each other and let the offspring 
escape both. It is the marriage of near relatives which has been the 
curse of Spain, and is the special curse of Utah polygamy ; if the cus- 
tom continues, the pure Mormon stock must die ou^ or retrograde, in 
physiological self-defense, to barbarism. 

But my own opinion is that Mormonism is on the decline. Old 
Mormons die, young ones grow up infidels ; the boys take to Gentile 
ways, and the girls, wherever practicable, get into the Gentile towns, 
sometimes to marry Gentiles, quite as often to practice polygamy 
without the troublesome intervention of the priest. Thus, in the 
future as for the past ten years, the system will slowly wear out, with 
some misery and much corruption. The young people will abandon 
the old folks' religion and have no education to take its place. The 
social fabric will for awhile fall into chaos, and Utah will pass 
through a season of moral storm before the better day comes. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

WHEEE SHALL WE SETTLE? 

Five million Americans are asking this question. They will take 
Greeley's advice and go West ; but are as yet undecided as to locality. 
Let us therefore briefly note the good and bad features of various 
sections. Imprimis, then, there is no paradise in the West; no 
region where one will not find serious drawbacks in climate, soil or 
society. 

If you like a middle northern clime, there is no better place than 
southern Minnesota and the adjacent parts of Dakota. These have 
one great advantage over northern Iowa: the vacant land is still in 
the market at government prices ; in Iowa it has been granted too 
extensively, and railroads and speculators own too much of it in 
large bodies. In the long run they lose money by holding it in this 
way; they would do well to sell and invest elsewhere; but they have 
not found that out yet. By and by the residents will learn how to 
make non-resident land pay all the taxes, as it now pays quite half, 
and then the speculators will sell cheap; but at present it would be 
advisable to locate where there is not so much non-resident land. 
The arguments now so common against these grants apply only to the 
border States; all the land given to the railroads west of longitude 100, 
was not worth one day's debate in Congress. The income from it will 
never pay interest at a dollar an acre. The climate of Minnesota 
may be divided thus; summer, four months; winter, five months: 
spring and autumn, six weeks each. In fact it is less than six weeks 
from the end of the snowy season to the coming of early fruits; but 
they call it spring the first of April, though the snow be six inches 
deep. 

The quickness of vegetation is amazing. In August, along the 
Blue-Earth River, one can scarcely believe he is not in a tropical 
country; the heavy forests of lynn and walnut, the groves of sugar 
maple supporting a dense leafy mass, the dark green vistas and rich 
natural parks, with the rank grass on the prairies seem out of place 
so far north. By November this gives way to snow, which remains 
till April first or tenth. It then seems to disappear all at once. The 



612 WESTERN WILDS. 

black sandy soil dries out thoroughly in a week; but the air is still 
cool enough to justify an overcoat, and for a fortnight there are only 
brown plains and gray woodsj with no hint of dawning life. A few 
days of warmth, and there is a swelling and fluttering perceptible on 
the bosom of nature ; then grass, bush, branch and vine spring 
quickly into living green, and in one month tropic luxuriance suc- 
ceeds wintry death. But September clothes this region in its most 
attractive dress. The frost turns one thicket purple, another bright, 
red or golden yellow, while the large timber is still green ; through 
the glades blows the cool and stimulating air, and over all is the soft 
blue sky of the Garden State. 

The advantages of this country are: abundant timber and running 
water, regular and exceedingly healthful climate, fertile soil, freedom 
from droughts and freshets, and land of excellent quality still to l>o 
had at reasonable rates. Its disadvantages: a long cold winter and 
occasional liability, to grasshoppers — the latter, however, very rare. 
The vegetable productions are remarkable, though report sometimes 
exaggerates. Tradition tells of one Minnesota Granger who happened 
to be examining a cucumber just as the season of rapid growth set 
in. As he backed out to give it room, the growing vine followed 
him so rapidly that he took to his heels, but was soon overtaken. 
It grew all around him, tangled up his legs, and threw him down. 
Reaching in great haste for his knife to cut himself loose, he found 
that a cucumber had gone to seed in his breeches pocket. 

The adjoining part of Dakota has similar climate and soil, but two 
disadvantages: there is less timber and more wind. But land is 
much cheaper. Hundreds of sections in every county can still be 
had at Government rates; and in the older settlements improved 
farms can even now be bought very cheap. Timber grows rapidly, 
and all the old settlers assure me they soon grow accustomed to the 
wind. I have noticed in all my western wanderings that the regions 
of abundant wind are those most free from malaria. The only ex- 
ception, if it is one, is in the Indian Territory, where there is wind 
enough, and yet much complaint on the score of fever and ague. 
Despite my experience with the high winds of Dakota, I am inclined 
to set down as fabulous the statement sometimes made by the envious, 
that an old Dakotian can not talk if the wind suddenly stops blow- 
ing. So used to it, you know. 

Iowa I have already described at some length. I can not get rid 
of the impression that the northern part of it is colder than the 
neighboring part of Minnesota. There is dess timber, and the wind 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE? 613 

has a fairer fling at a man. Artificial groves grow rapidly, and the 
soil is of great fertility. And if you find there is too much non-res- 
ident land in your vicinity, you can help your good neighbors stick 
the taxes on it till the owner is willing to sell for whatever he can 
get, I have a friend who has paid $620 taxes in ten years, on a quar- 
ter section of Iowa land, and is now ready to sell to some man who 
owns a gold mine or a spouting oil-well. We have all heard of the 
man who ate so much it made him poor to carry it. Similarly, some 
people own .so much western land that it will break them up to keep 
it. The settlers do not intend that non-residents shall get the bene- 
fit of their hard pioneering — and who shall blame them ? 

Let us go a little further south. Northern Nebraska I know but 
little about, but in the southern part of that State is a region which 
seems to me peculiarly inviting to men from the Middle Northern 
States. "South Platte," as this division is called, contains at least 
25,000 square miles of fertile land, of which one-half or more is for 
sale quite cheap. The climate is perceptibly milder than that of 
"North Platte," and all the fruits and grains of the temperate zone 
a^-e produced on a generous soil. Along the line of the Burlington 
and Missouri River Railroad land is held at high rates, but in the rest 
of the country it can be bought at from five to eight dollars per acre. 
There is no government land in this section worth naming. The 
climate is about like that of central Ohio, with dryer winters and 
more wind. This last you may retain as a general statement as to all 
the border States. Society is most excellent. The population is in- 
telligent and progressive, and nowhere does a man find himself out 
of reach of the church and school-house. Going westward on any 
line one will find the winters growing dryer, also more "airish," So 
the doubting emigrant may ask himself " whether 'tis nobler in a man 
to suffer" cold healthful winds, to have dry roads and freedom from 
mud ; or take refuge in the wooded regions of Indiana or Missouri, 
avoid the winds and suffer the other evils. 

We now turn to a region more affected by men from the middle lat- 
itudes. In many weeks travel between the Des Moines and the Ar- 
kansas, one-fifth or more of those I met were from Ohio, and nearly 
all of them had sought this region since the war, Kansas, like 
Nebraska, is divided into northern and southern — this by the Kaw, 
that by the Platte. North-eastern Kansas is already an old country ; 
Doniphan County was pretty well settled twenty years ago, A hun- 
dred miles west of the Missouri land can still be had at reasonable 
rates, but I have never visited that section. When we come to 



614 WESTERN WILDS. 

southern Kansas an inviting field indeed is open to us. Good land is 
cheaper to-day than it was five years ago. This I happen to know 
from painful personal experience. But it don't follow that it will be 
cheaper still five years from now. Surely "the bottom" is reached by 
this time. In the second tier of counties, including Anderson, Allen, 
Keosho and Labette, the Leavenworth, Lawrence and Galveston Rail- 
road Company have large tracts of good land for sale; and private 
owners a still larger amount. 

This region boasts of many advantages: a mild climate, soil of rare 
fertility, timber sufficient for all ordinary purposes, rock in abundance, 
and easy communication with the rest of the world. Society is unsur- 
passed by that of any section, east or west. Churches and school- 
houses are within convenient reach of every section of land, and a 
man can not settle in so wild a spot that the mail will not bring him 
late papers at least twice a week. For seven years this region was 
blessed with good crops; then came the "bad year "of 1874, when 
drought, chintz-bugs and grasshoppers in succession desolated the 
land. In Allen County large streams dried to beds of dust, the fish 
literally parching on the rocks; and pools and springs disappeared 
which the oldest inhabitant had considered perennial. In 1875 nat- 
ure resumed her wonted courses ; but the people had been too poor to 
sow wheat, and the country remained in a condition of general pov- 
erty. But such a crop otherwise I had never seen. There were miles 
on miles of corn-fields, yielding from forty to eighty bushels per acre, 
and for sale at twenty cents per bushel ; tens of thousands of tons of 
hay, worth two dollars per ton in the stack ; potatoes by millions, and 
more feed than the stock could eat. And there was the trouble. The 
peojile had not a sufficiently diversified industry. They had relied al- 
most entirely on the sale of grain, and this year there was no sale, and 
they remai'ued poor despite their immense crops. I came down from 
the mountains on a visit just after the last grasshoppers had left, and 
a rural wag gave me this dialect picture of his experience Avitli them : 

" You see I bought early in '72 — give $2,200 for 240 acres. Could 
a bought the same for half that two years after; can buy good land 
right alongside o' mine now for a V an acre. Been a deal o' cramp 
in real estate in this country. Well, nobody ever makes a crop the 
first year in a prairie country — think themselves in luck to get fences 
built and sod broke. I bought a hundred sheep — two blooded rams 
and the rest common ewes — and put all the rest of my money in im- 
provements. Raised a little corn and oats in 1873, and put thirty acres 
of the new land, sod broke in 1872, into wheat, and went to work with a 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE f 615 

hurrah in 1874 to make a God-awful crop. Every thing come a boom- 
ing, and I thought I had the ^vorld in a sling. Corn, oats, potatoes 
and wheat just got up and laughed, they grew so fine. Thought I 
never saw such a country for things to grow. "Worked all the week, 
and used to set on the fence Sunday and calculate how rich I'd be. 
Went out one fine sunny morning about the first of June, and thought, 
by jimiuy, the whole ground was a moving. Ten million hoppers to 
the square yard — all chawin' away as if the country belonged to 'em. 
Saturday morning they come into my farm from a ridge just south o' 
me — Sunday noon there wasn't a green thing where the corn, cane and 
potatoes had been. Job's luck wasn't a circumstance. My corn lot 
looked as if forty bands o' wild Arabs had fell onto it. Xot a 
smidgeon left — just bodaciously chawed up and spit out. 

" Well, of course I had the dumps. But I rallied. 'All right,' 

says I ; ' got wheat and tobacco left anyhow.' Professor P said 

they wouldn't eat tobacco; but he's a fraud, sir — a barefaced fraud. 
The hoppers just went up on a ridge north of me and shed their second 
coats, and then come back on the tobacco. They eat every leaf clean 
to the ground, then dug up the roots and set on the fence and cussed 
every man that come along, for a chaw. About that time they got 
wings, and sudden as could be rose in the air and went off north a 
whirlin', like a shower o' white and yelloM' paper bits. 'xVll right,' 
says I; 'they've left my wheat anyhow.' Singular enough they didn't 
touch it ; it was on t'other side the place, and out o' their track. 
AVell, I rallied again, and counted on six hundred bushels o' wheat — 
and wheat's the money crop in this country. About June the middle 
I noticed all at once that my wheat looked kind o' sick. Come to ex- 
amine, sir, it was completely lined with a little, miserable, black and 
yellow, nasty, smelling bug. I took some to a man 'at had been here 
ten years. 'Neighbor,' says he, ' you're a goner ; thems chintz-bugs, 
and every head o' that wheat that an't cut, '11 be et up in forty-eight 
hours.' Well, it was Sunday morning, and the wheat nothing like 
ripe; but it was a chance, and I got onto my reaper and banged down 
every hoot of it before Monday night. It cured in the sun and the 
bugs left it, and out o' the lot I got just a hundred and forty bushels 
o' shrunk-up stuff. It was a hundred and forty bushels more than 
any o' my neighbors got. You bet there was improved farms for sale 
in that neighborhood. My sheep had done well, and that was all I 
was ahead. Taking it by and large, the only sure crop is sheep." 

He touched the right point in the last sentence ; this is the country 
for stock-growing. Corn and hay can be produced so cheaply that 



616 WESTERN WILDS. 

the cost of bringing a full-grown ox into market is less than halT \vhat 
it would be in Ohio. The best of unimproved land, near the railroad, 
sometimes sells as high as twelve dollars per acre; from that it ranges 
down to four. In 1875 the surplus crop of the State was worth 
twelve million dollars. The report for that year showed that the corn 
raised in the State, if shelled and put in box-cars, would have 
loaded a train sixteen hundred miles long! 

Tiie Indian Territory is much talked of, but I would not advise any 
one to go there with a view to permanent settlement. Government 
can not open the land to immigration without a shameful breach of 
good faith, and for one, as an humble citizen, I protest against it. 
There is such an abundance of good land elsewhere that we can afford 
to leave this to the civilized Indians for the next fifty years. Then 
their progress will have been such that they will themselves throw 
it open and invite white settlers. Texas, just south of it, offers a far 
better field. Dallas is the center of a region two hundred miles 
square, which offers great inducements to Northern men. The win- 
ters are sharp enough to insure health and energy ; and the summers 
are not, as far as I could observe, any hotter than in Minnesota. 
Land through all this section can be had at from four to eight dollars 
per acre. There are no Congressional lands in Texas; it is all State 
land. This comes of the State having been an independent republic 
when it came into the Union. It reserved the ownership of all lands 
within its borders, though there are not wanting laAvyers who assert 
that the general government might have rightfully taken those lands 
from the State after the latter had seceded. 

Look out for those beautifully colored maps which divide Texas 
into various agricultural sections, and locate the "wheat lands" away 
up on the heads of the Brazos, Colorado and Red' River. One can 
put in his eye all the wheat they will raise up there without an ex- 
pansive and expensive system of irrigation, and it will puzzle them to 
find water to irrigate with. If half that region is fit for grazing land 
it is the best we can expect. Southern Texas is not very suitable for 
Northern men. Along the gulf are immense areas of fine sugar and 
cotton lands, but the climate is not favorable. Not that the heat is so 
great; but the summers are long, the autumns dry, and the winters first 
warm, moist and debilitating, and then very chilly. Central and north- 
ern Texas are free from these disadvantages. The immigrant from the 
North must learn a newsysteraof agriculture, but that he can easily do. 

Society? Well, I found it very agreeable. If there is any special 
hostility to Northern men, or Republicans, I never noticed it. The 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE? 617 

latter maintain their organization, sometimes elect their candidate, and 
always give him a hearty support, though the State has been Demo- 
cratic since 1872. Texas may fairly claim to be one of the best gov- 
erned States in the Union. Except on the south-western border the 
ratio of crimes is very small. In 1873 the law against carrying con- 
cealed weapons was strictly enforced in the railroad towns — a good 
deal more than can be said of any town on the Union or Kansas Pa- 
cific Railroads. It is in the "cow counties," in the extreme Mcst and 
south-west, that some lawlessness still prevails. The law as to con- 
cealed weapons excepts tliose counties, it being considered a necessity 
that the vacqueros should go prepared for "enterprising Mexicans" 
and other cattle thieves. If you like a wild country, that's the place 
for you, and if that is not wild enough try the Comanche l:»order. 
There the mountainous spurs put out towards the lower country and 
cut it up into numerous little valleys. Down these spurs come the 
savages, often lying in ambush for days together in the scrubby tim- 
ber, watching the ranches below. And all this time the settlers go 
about their usual work in assured safety, for there is not the slightest 
danger till after the " strike." One might walk within a rod of the 
hidden enemy and never be molested. The settlers see signs of 
Indians about, but feel no uneasiness ; but once the raid is made, and 
the robbers on the run for cover, they kill all they encounter, and even 
slaughter stock they can not take away. They can get five or ten 
miles more running out of a horse than can a wdiite man ; and five 
minutes after they leave him he is so near dead that he can not be 
forced to walk. When hard pressed they draw a knife, hastilv make 
a few incisions in the animal's hide and rub in salt and powder. As 
the cow-boys express it, " it puts new life in a boss." 

But when long immunity has made the settlers careless, there some- 
times occur tragedies which thrill the country with, horror, and are 
told for years by the pioneers' hearth-stone, or around the camp-fire, 
where rude borderers teach their younger companions eternal hatred 
of all the Indian race. In the year 1850, a Mississippian, named 
Lockhardt, settled a little farther up the Colorado than was then 
usual with families, but still in a region thought to be safe from 
Comanche raids; and, in a few years, was surrounded with most of 
the comforts of his more eastern home. Wealth and good taste 
united to improve the wild beauty of nature; his house, elegant in- 
deed for the border, was a temple of hospitality ; his flocks and herds 
ranged over the area of a dukedom ; his colored servants scarce knew 
'•-hey had a master, so light was his patriarchal sway; and far and 



618 WESTERN WILDS. 

near the name of 'Squire Loekhardt Avas known as that of a natural 
nobleman and Texas gentleman. The friendly Indians that passed 
that way also partook of his hospitality, and he made the too common 
mistake of supposing that this would shield him against the incur- 
sions of their wilder congeners. But, of all his possessions, none was 
so widely celebrated as his daughter Minnie. The rude vacqucros 
were charmed into unusual courtesy at sight of her; and, from far 
and near, young Texans of more pretensions sought her society. On 
the border, a young woman of beauty and accomplishments often ac- 
quires a wide-spread fame that would seem impossible to Eastern peo- 
ple ; her graces arc recounted in such fervid rhetoric that the cold 
critic of an older community would think of her as a fabulous being. 
Even so the charms of Minnie Loekhardt were sung in a hundred 
camps, from the Trinity to the Colorado. 

Many other settlers, generally single men, and skillful frontiersmen, 
had located between Loekhardt and the staked plain, and he had long 
ceased to think of an Indian raid as even remotely possible, when, 
suddenly as lightning from a clear sky, the Indian war of 1854-'5 
broke out; and, from the settlements on the upper Rio Grande, clear 
around to the Canadian, the border was in a blaze. The Utes and 
Apaches on the west pressed the Mexicans and whites, while the Co- 
manches, from their fastnesses, carried destruction far down into 
Texas. The storm broke while Loekhardt was absent from home. 
Every settler near him was killed; his servants fled for their lives, 
and his daughter, then but twenty years of age, was carried into cap- 
tivitv. The frenzied father sent an appeal to his fellow-citizens, and 
it seemed that the whole Texan border was moved by one common 
impulse. Every young Texan who could supply himself with horse 
and gun was eager to assist in the rescue of Minnie Loekhardt; and, 
as soon as a force of two hundred had assembled, the father led them 
towards the high country, leaving word for the others to follow. 
Striking the trail of the Comanches, the Texans followed as fast as 
the strength of their horses would allow, their furious zeal continually 
aroused anew by the sights along the way, where worn out captives 
had been ruthlessly murdered. Suddenly, at daylight, the pursuers 
came upon the murderers in one of those numerous canons of upper 
Texas, where the savages had thought themselves safe. 

Then ensued one of the most desperately contested battles of the 
Texan border. The Indian camp was set far back in a grove of 
scrubby timber, on all sides of which rose sandy hillocks and de- 
tached rocks, furnishing admirable lines of defense, as well as retreat. 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE f 619 

Again and again did the Texans, led by Lockhardt, penetrate almost 
to the camp, only to be driven back ; and, on each advance, they dis 
tinctly heard the voice of Minnie calling on them for help, and 
dreaded lest their attack should be the signal for her death. But it 
appears the savages were bent on preserving their captive if possible. 
A double line of warriors surrounded the tent in which she was 
bound; and at last the wretched father, bleeding from a dozen 
wounds, was forced away by his men, who saw that the attack was 
hopeless. Having received reinforcements, they renewed the fight 
the second day after, but the Indians had also collected their force ■ 
and taken a still stronger position ; and to the father, lying helplessf, 
with his wounds, the nien at last repoi'ted that the attack was hope- 
less, unless with a force large enough to surround the Comanche 
stronghold and reduce it by a regular siege. 

Successive bands of Texans arrived, and in a few days the father 
again urged them to the attack ; but the Indians had managed to re- 
treat, carrying Miss Lockhardt with them. With thedevilishness in- 
herent in the Comanche nature, they were all the more determined to 
keep her when they saw the general anxiety of the Avhites for her 
recovery. But she proved a troublesome prize. The foct of her cap- 
tivity nerved every Texan to desperate measures, and in a short time 
the Indians were attacked at all points, and forced back towards the 
Pecos. Then, as afterwards appeared, the band having possession of 
Miss Lockhardt, sent her northward, and disposed of her to the 
Arapahoes. Convinced that she was the daughter of a great chief, by 
the exertions made to recapture her, this tribe opened negotiations 
Avith the commandants at Fort Union and Lancaster. But before 
any thing could be accomplished, the Utes and Apaches were raiding 
the entire New Mexican border, and the captive girl in some Avay Avas 
transferred to the former tribe. Despite the awful hardships of a 
winter among the savages she survived, and in some way managed to 
make known her existence to the American commandant at Fort 
Massachusetts, New Mexico. About this time the Territorial Gov- 
ernor called out five hundred New Mexican volunteers, who were put 
under command of Colonel Ceran St. Vrain ; and, joined bv tlie 
First Regiment of United States Dragoons, under Colonel T. T. 
Fauntleroy, the whole force marched into the Indian country early in 
1855. They defeated the Indians in one general battle and several 
minor skirmishes, but no trace of Miss Lockhardt could be found. 
The noted Kit Carson was then intrusted Avith the task of settling with 
the Utes and recovering all captives ; but other means were at work. 



620 



WESTERN WILDS. 



"Worn down by his wounds and mental suifering, Lockhardt re- 
turned honie in (k'spuir; but another party of determined men set out 
to lind the eaptive who had, as it appears, been taken by the Arapa- 
hoes and Cheyennes from the Utes, with whom they were at war. 
Again and again were the whites almost successful, and as often was 







FOKl' MASSACHUSKTTS, NEW MEXICO, 1855. 



the unfortunate girl hurried away to some more hidden fastness, almost 
before their eyes. The general Indian war ended, and a nominal 
peace was made ; negotiation was again attempted, but the third year 
of her captivity came, and still nothing was done. At length a com- 
pany of the Texan Rangers, having penetrated almost to the heai't of 
the Guadaloupe Range, came suddenly upon a village of Comauehes, 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLED 621 

and despite the hurried flight of the savages, who had their own women 
and children with them, the Rangers saw among them a captive white 
woman. They charged desperately upon the savages, who fled in all 
directions, but not till one of them had buried his knife in the body of 
the girl, who was still breathing when the Rangers came up. It was 
Minnie Lockhardt. She was but just »ble to smile, as if to welcome 
the Rangers, then peacefully breathed her last. " And," said the 
weather-beaten frontiersman who gave me these facts, as he choked 
down his emotions, " it was a God's blessin' she was dead, an' her 
father never seen her." For she had suflered the last terrible indio;- 
nity savage malice could invent. As is common when a captive 
woman is not taken by one Indian, she had became the common prop- 
erty of the band ; and loathsome disease had worn her to a skeleton. 
Heart-broken and disfigured, death was to her an unmixed gain. Her 
afflicted lather soon followed her to the grave. The Lockhardt place 
is now desolate ; its dwellings burned, its tenants gone. But the 
chivalry and hospitality of the fiither are still the theme of local story, 
Mhile the beauty and sorrowful fate of the daughter are still told 
around the camp-fires and hearth-stones of Texas, and warm anew the 
hearts of its sons to undying vengeance against the Comanches. 

Texas ends the list of the border States proper. Ol)serve that in all 
these States as one goes west he rises slowly to a higher, dryer and 
more barren country, till at last, about longitude 100° or 101° he en- 
ters on " the area of corrugation," as geologists call it, where barren- 
ness is the rule; and this area includes all the western border of Da- 
kota, Nebraska, Kansas, Ocklahoma and Texas, of eastern Washing- 
ton, Oregon and California, and all of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, 
Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. Let us skip this region 
of mountain and desert, and pass at once to the fertile section of the 
Pacific coast, lying west of the Sierra Nevadas. 

California? Well, I should not be in a hurry to recommend it to 
any man of moderate means. The worst objection is the oppressive 
land monopoly. "A little ranche of twenty thousand acres " is a com- 
mon expression. A dozen men each own a dukedom — all but the in- 
habitants. They will own them after awhile, unless this thing is 
remedied. The beginning of this system was in the Mexican grants. 
The old Spanish custom was to grant a county of land to an imjyrcsario, 
on condition that he should settle a certain number of families on it. 
The Mexicans continued the system with some modifications, and in 
due time the inferiors became i:)e.on8 to the lord. These titles were 
all confirmed bv treaty when the United States took possession, and 



622 WESTERN WILDS. 

have been sustained by the Supreme Court. Again, when the miners 
took the country they supposed the land to be -worth but little except 
for grazing, and many of them took up claims and sold them for a 
trifle to speculators, and thus the best land in California is now licld 
in immense tracts by an aristocracy. Of course these men are in fa- 
vor of "Chinese cheap labor," and equally of course the poorer whites 
arc unanimously 0])posed to it. Some luivc thought that, as our coun- 
try grew older, all the lands would be held in the same May ; but it is 
somewhat reassuring to note that there is less land monopoly in Mas- 
sachusetts than in Ohio, and far less in Ohio than in California. In 
some of the oldest States the land is most equally distributed, thanks 
to our wise laws of descent and distribution of estates ; and in the 
course of fifty or a hundred years the attrition of a free society will 
wear out this evil in California. 

It is now very difficult for one to get a small piece of land in that 
State ; and it would be better for intending emigrants to organize in 
some way, and buy out a grant, of which there are always a few for sale. 
There are a few places — very few I am afraid — where the best land is not 
in the hands of monopolists, and it is already noticeable that such com- 
munities improve faster than others. But for many years to come Cal- 
ifornia will continue to be a land of the beggar and the prince. 

In Oregon this evil is not so great, but still great enough. Land in 
the Willamette Valley is not much cheaper than in Ohio and Indiana, 
and I can not think that enough is gained to make it worth while to 
go so far. I do not sec how a man, w^ife and five children — average 
Western family — can get to Oregon comfortably for less than five or 
six hundred dollars, which amount would buy eighty acres of first- 
class land in Kansas or Nebraska, or a hundred acres in Texas ; and, 
having got to Oregon, you must pay more for land than in the other 
States named, with a moral certainty that the country will develop 
more slowly. Oregon began to be settled by white men as early as 
1830 ; before 1848 it contained 10,000 Americans ; its population now 
is about 100,000. Kansas was thrown open to settlement only twenty- 
three years ago; it now contains a population of at least 600,000. It 
strikes me that's the sort of a country to go to, if you want your future 
to hurry up. But if you like a romantic border country — one that 
is likely to stay border for a long time — go to Oregon. Oregon 
climate? Well, some people like it. I don't. True, it is mild — and 
moist; but I am just Yankee enough to prefer the cold, dry winter to 
the warm, wet, muggy, and muddy. No five months' rain for me, if 
you please. I'd rather freeze than smother. In California it's diflPer- 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE f 623 

ent. There Is no more rain there during the so-called "rainy season" 
than in Ohio, and half the time not as much. In fact, there never is 
too much rain in California, though there is sometimes too little. The 
summers in Oregon are delightful enough — more pleasant than in 
California ; but, as at present advised, I would not recommend either 
State to the class of emigrants just now going West. 

Let us now turn to the great interior, and see if we can pick out 
any oases inviting to settlement between longitude 100 and the Sierra 
Nevadas. Nevada is not an agricultural State at all ; and, for aught 
we can now see, never will be. It contains 98,000 square miles, and less 
good land than three average counties in Ohio. It has population 
enough for one-third of a member of Congress ; but our " paternal " 
government has granted the State one Representative and two Sen- 
ators. Nobody need think of going there to engage in farming. In 
the far distant future, when land is in much greater demand than now, 
some way will perhaps be found to redeem those arid tracts. Trees 
will be planted wherever they will grow; the Australian eucalyptus 
may flourish even on the desert, and thus in a few centuries a moister 
atmosphere be created. But for the present the population must con- 
sist of capitalists and laboring miners, and their congeners. And here 
I might indulge in wearying words on the romance and hardship of 
a miner's life, had I not given him a chapter to himself. Strange it is 
that he should be the most imaginative of men, with a life of such 
prosaic toil ; but it is, doubtless, because his ways are in a path, as Job 
says, "which no fowl knowcth, and which the vulture's eye hath not 
seen: the lion's whelps have not trodden it, nor the fierce lion passed 
by it" (Job xxviii). And no finer, more poetical description of 
the silver miner's strange life under-ground was ever written than in 
that chapter, taking Louth's version: "He putteth forth his hand 
vipon the rocks, he swings above the depths. He cutteth out water- 
courses through the rocks ; and his eye searcheth for precious things. 
He makes a new way for the floods ; he goes in the very stones of 
darkness, in the shadow of death." The perils of the prospector 
above ground are equally great, but the life has its charms for all 

that. 

In Utah are still a few unoccupied plateaus which could be re- 
deemed by canals taken out from some large stream. Bear River Val- 
ley contains some sixty thousand acres of fertile land, which might be 
redeemed at moderate cost by a canal from Bear River. The climate 
is mild, not very hot in summer, and decidedly pleasant in winter. 
The Central Pacific runs through the valley, and the location is ex- 



624 



WESTERN WILDS. 



cellcnt for a thriving colony. On the Sevier is a smaller valley of 
the same character. East of the Wasatch llange are several heauti- 

lul valleys. That of Ash- 
ley's Fork contains land 
enough for three thousand 
farms, all of most excel- 
lent quality; and it can be 
had for the taking. Late 
in 1873 a dozen stock 
ranchers settled there, and 
liave raised splendid crops 
every year since. Be it 
noted that in no part of 
the temperate zone is fruit 
a more certain crop than 
in Utah. Peaches never 
fail. The Ashley A^alley 
slopes gently to the south- 
east; snow rarely lies on 
more than one night, and 
all the slopes are rich in 
bunch-grass. G a m e i s 
abundant in the neighbor- 
ing hills, and a good road 
can easily be constructed 
to tlie Union Pacific at 
B r i d g e r Station. The 
Valley of Brush Creek, 
east of Ashley, is about 
half as large and equally 
inviting. In these a 
colony of ten thousand 
Americans might make 
for themselves delightful 
homes. 

Farther south are sev- 
eral fine valleys, none 
quite so large as the fore- 

THK PKOSPECTOR'S PERIL. ^,,,j,^^,^ |, „ ^ ^,^,j.y feHile J 

and small settlements have been made in some of them. It is to 
be noted that these valleys which open eastward from the Wasatdi 




WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE? 625 

are free from Mormon domination, and will remain so if He^^licd by 
Gentile colonies. It has always seemed to me that life would be ex- 
ceedingly pleasant in one of these alpine valleys. The elevation is 
about five thousand feet above sea-level; the winters are mild; the 
summer air dry and stimulating. There is game on the hills, and 
trout in the streams ; land enough to produce grain for a sparse 
population, and almost unlimited grazing ground. But these dis- 
tricts will never sustain a large population. Between each settled 
valley and the next there will be a day's ride over barren mountain or 
grassy hill. All that part of Utah east of the Wasatch will never sus- 
tain a hundred thousand people. 

Wyoming contains so little farming land that it is not worth while 
to discuss it ; but it is rich in grazing tracts. Of the 98,000 square 
miles in this Territory, one-half is complete desert; the rest good 
grazing ground, with perhaps 500 sections of farming land, though I 
never saw the latter and do not know where it is located. Of course 
no one pre-empts his grazing land ; he merely takes up meadow land 
when he can get it convenient; and perhaps enough farming land for 
a garden, if there is so much in the neighborhood. One year Avith 
another the herder puts up hay enough for three months' feeding. 
Sometimes none of it is used, and then it is on hand for the next 
winter. About half the time the common stock can go through the 
winter without hay, living on the bunch-grass; but blooded stock 
should be fed at least two months every winter. By the first of May 
stock can live well on the range. From that on, the grass appears to 
o-et more nourishing every day till December. If the winter comes 
on with snow, grass remains good till the snow melts; but rain takes 
the sweetness out of it. It will then sustain life, but stock lose flesh 
rapidly while living on it. It requires a much larger area for the 
same number of stock than in a blue-grass country, as the grass makes 
but one growth per year, not renewing itself after being eaten off. 
From all these facts it will be apparent that Wyoming never can sus- 
tain a very large population. 

New Mexico? Well, I must as candidly as maybe admit that I was 
rather disgusted with it — that is, for any thing else than mountains and 
scenery. Bear in mind that the central portions of New Mexico are 
really older country than Ohio. Santa Fe was founded a hundred and 
fifty years before Cincinnati. All the good land in the valleys of the 
Rio Grande and its tributaries was long ago occupied, and the grazing 
lands of the central section are taken up. West of the Rio Grande 
the country is practically worthless to a man used to the system of 
40 



626 WESTERN WILDS. 

livino- in Ohio. The Territory has all the faults of an old country, 
and few of its virtues. As a stock-rancher you have but two chances 
of success. The one adopted by most live Americans is to go in part- 
nirship with one of the nobility. If you have business ability and a 
partner who can furnish the blue blood, respectability, local prestige 
and land, you may in time become a capitalist, and marry ten or 
twenty thousand sheep, with an incumbrance in the shape of a lady 
whose priest will rule her, and her father insist on an ante-nuptial 
contract that the children shall be reared in the " Holy Catholic faith." 
The other plan is to go with money enough to buy a thousand sheep 
and a herd-right — that is to say, be a capitalist yourself. But do n't 
think of going to New Mexico to build up a fortune by hard work. 
The common fellows there can work for fifty cents a day, and live 
on jerked mutton and flour. 

If you want to lead a wild harum-scarum sort of life for awhile, 
free from social restraints, where chastity is not a requisite for good 
society, and morals in general are somewhat relaxed. New Mexico is a 
splendid place to sow your wild oats. As to the crop to be reaped, I 
refer you to a very ancient authority. But if you think much of 
yourself, better set up your sheep ranche in Colorado or Wyoming, 
where there is not such an oppressive atmosphere of gentefina, and 
where the owner of two sheep is still one of the boys, and can dance 
with the daughter of the man who owns a thousand. In south-western 
Arizona a progressive community has been built up of late years, and 
though the fertile area is small, there is still room for thousands more. 
Colorado I have described at some length in a previous chapter. It 
is, in my opinion, the most enlightened and progressive of all the far 
western communities ; though I doubt if it can ever have the popula- 
tion that Dakota will some day contain. Idaho I know very little 
about, and of Montana practically still less. But it is universally 
agreed that they are not agricultural Territories. There are valleys 
in both which contain considerable good land, and large grazing 
tracts ; but mining will be the leading interest of both for some time. 
Taken as a whole, and allowing for every possible improvement in 
methods of farming and reclamation of desert lands, the whole vast 
interior, between longitude 100 and the Sierra Nevadas, can never 
average one acre in ten fit for the farmer; and not more than half the 
rest is of any value for timber or grazing. 

And can such a region ever be filled by prosperous States, which 
shall rival those of the Mississippi valley ? Never. All calculations 
as to the shifting of political power, made on the basis of new States, 



WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE. 



627 



rich and populous, are sure to miscarry. That section has an area 
greater than that of all the States east of the Mississippi ; but its pop- 
ulation fifty years hence will not be greater than that of Massachu- 
setts, Only in the Senate will the relative power of the East and 
West be changed in the future ; and probably very little there. Col- 
orado was only admitted after a ten years' struggle. Nevada ought to 
be set back to a Territorial condition to-day, if there were any consti- 
tutional way of doing justice. The child is not born that will live to 
see her with population enough for one Congressional district. Here 
is a liberal estimate of the maximum population these divisions are 
likely to have in the year 1900: 



Colorado, 

Wyoming, 

Dakota, 

Idaho, . 

Washington, 

Utah, . 

New Mexico, 

Montana, 

Nevada, 

Arizona, 



Total. 



250,000 
100,000 
300,000 
100,000 
125,000 
250,000 
150,000 
100,000 
75,000 
50,000 



1,500,000 

Extraordinary discoveries may enable some one of the mining re- 
gions to get ahead of the others, but the grand total can not be greater 
than here set down; and only the most favorable contingencies can 
make it so great. The influence which this may have upon our social 
and national life opens a wide field for discussion. The good land at 
the disposal of our Government is nearly exhausted. But a few more 
years and there will be no more virgin soil awaiting the immigrant. 
Then the half desert lands must be won with great toil, or we must 
turn back and fill up the corners which have been overrun in our rush 
for the best spots. Our surplus population will then have no rich 
heritage to look to, where a homestead can be had for the taking. 
The paternal farm in the East must be divided again and again, if all 
the boys are to have a share. What will be the eifect on our discon- 
tented classes? Will it add a new strain to republican government, 
and will the troubles which menace the old world monarchies then 
come upon us and find us unprepared to treat them rightly? or is 
there yet room in the Eastern States for us to grow harmoniously for 
another century? These be momentous questions. 

Certain theorists have further troubled themselves about the silvei- 
supply ; and timid editors and politicians have suggested that if more 



628 WESTERN ]VIL1)S. 

bonanzas are discovered, silver will soon be "cheap enoiijili to niami 
facture into door-liiii^es." To such I o-narantee comforting prooli- 
Let them invest heavily in undeveloped silver mines, au'l i)e[i)i-c the 
get their money back they will be convinced that silver is still ; 
precious metal — hard to get at and correspondingly valuable whei 
got. One Ohio editor says : " Suppose they should discover a mount 
ain of silver!" Suppose they should discover a mountain of ice 
cream in August! The one supposition is just as reasonable as th( 
other. In fact the latter phenomenon wovdd violate fewer of th( 
laws of nature than the former. Unchanging law decrees that, ever 
in the richest mineral region, there must be many million times ai 
much dead rock — "attle," "rubble," and "country rock" — as silver- 
bearing rock. Let silver permanently cheapen but 5 per cent., anc 
two-thirds of the mines in the world would cease to be profitable. 

For another class there is comfort. Poet and romancer, as wel 
as hunter and tourist, have lamented that in so short a time the wile 
West would be a thing of the past ; that soon all would be tame, duf 
and common-place. Let them be reassured. The wild West wil' 
continue wild for centuries. There will be a million square miles of 
mountain, desert, rock and sand, of lonely gorge and hidden glen, of 
walled basin, wind-swept canon and timbered hills, to invite the tour- 
ist, the sportsman and the lover of solitude. The mountain Terri- 
tories will long remain the abode of romance; and "Western Wilds' 
will be celebrated in song and story, while generation succeeds genera- 
tion of " the men who redeem them." 



THE END. 



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